


A-Z Steve&Tony

by Imp13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adorable, Adrenaline Junkies, Angry Sex, Angry Steve Rogers, Angry Tony Stark, Angst, Antique Shopping, Artist Steve Rogers, Artistic Liberties, Avengers Family, Bad Communication, Biting, Blowjobs, Bottom Tony Stark, Breathplay, Bruises, Caretaker Steve Rogers, Caretaker Tony Stark, Caretaking, Chair Sex, Character Death, Choking, Claiming Bites, Cold Weather, Confident Tony Stark, Dark, Desk Sex, Dog - Freeform, Drama, Dry Humping, Escape, Established Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Fluff, Grieving, Hairbrush, Humor, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Impact Play, Joyride - Freeform, Kink, Kink Exploration, Kissing the Choo Choo, M/M, Marking, Mental Health Issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mother Hen Steve Rogers, Old-Fashioned, PTSD, Pepper Potts is done, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Steve Rogers, Possessive Tony Stark, Relationship Issues, Romantic Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Sense of Duty, Sick Tony, Smitten Tony Stark, Smut, Soft Boys, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve is a good sport, Stony - Freeform, Stubborn Steve Rogers, Stubborn Tony Stark, Super Soldier Serum, Superhusbands, Switch Steve Rogers, Switch Tony Stark, Tank - Freeform, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Top Steve Rogers, argument, clint barton - Freeform, emotionally constipated, sam wilson - Freeform, waxing poetic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-01-15 14:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 21,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imp13/pseuds/Imp13
Summary: An A-Z collection of Steve/Tony one shots, each one inspired by a word prompt starting with the corresponding letter. Each one will vary in content, so I’ll put individual ratings, warnings and tags at the beginning of each chapter. Main tags will be added along the way.Rated E because some chapters will have adult content.And some letters will have more than one because I do what I want!





	1. Allergies

**Author's Note:**

> A is for Allergies  
Rated T for language and some adult content.  
Fluffy sweet goodness. Stubborn stupid Tony. Sweet mother hen Steve.

The circuitry blurred and Tony leaned closer. At this point his nose was almost pressed directly against it. It did nothing to help his vision and he cursed, jamming his hand welder back onto its stand, and then madly rubbing at his eyes.

Tony didn’t get sick. It wasn’t allowed, as decreed by himself. At the faintest sign of illness he loaded himself with remedies and preventatives. But he wasn’t sick, he had allergies, newly developed allergies kicking his ass.

For what felt like the millionth time Tony tipped his head back, pulled his bottom lid down, and squeezed a couple beads of allergy relief drops into his eyes. They cooled the burning and then rolled down his cheeks, getting caught in his stubble. He rubbed them away and was about to return to his work when he felt the tell tale tingling in his nose. An explosive sneeze sent his body in an inelegant flail.

“Fucking jesus.” Tony let his head thud down against his work table. He had work to do. He always had work to do. Which is exactly why this shit was not allowed. He reached down the table, blindly grasping around until he found the bottle he was looking for. The pills rattled sweetly as he pulled it towards him.

A hand landed on his own, stopping it, and he groaned long and miserable like a petulant child.

“How many have you had and how long ago?” Steve’s voice was the combination of stern and affectionate it took on when Tony was being “obstinate” or “self-negligent”.

“Two, four hours ago.” Tony replied nasally.

“Jarvis?”

“Six, thirty minutes ago, Captain.”

Tony wasn’t surprised Jarvis betrayed him. He always told Steve the truth unless explicitly and specifically directed otherwise, and even then he found a way around it 90% of the time. He could hear Steve’s exasperated eye roll that unquestionably accompanied his sigh. “Alright, knucklehead. I’m calling Code Kissing the Choo Choo.”

Tony groaned and leaned away from Steve, pulling uselessly at the hand the other man had trapped in his own. “Nooooo. Nat needs her suit upgrade! It’s got a weakness to acid! What if the acid spitting spiders come back?”

“Nope. Terms of Code Kissing the Choo Choo can’t be violated. If either of us deems the other as pushed to the limit and compromising themselves, we have the right to intervention. We shook on it.” Steve didn’t wait for Tony’s undoubtable repeated refusal. He slid an arm around the smaller man’s waist and moved to scoop him up. Tony knew what was coming and went dead weight in a last ditch attempt. Of course it was pointless, and Steve easily threw him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“I’m telling Pepper.”

“What? That I stopped you from overdosing on allergy medication, and I’m forcing you to rest before you keel over?”

The floor slid beneath him as Steve began his way out of the workshop to the elevator. Tony stayed limp, and grumbled, “yes.” He could feel the rumble in Steve’s chest against his thighs when the other man chuckled.

“You do know it’s just allergies, right? I’m not going to die, or even need hospitalization. The idea is preposterous. You know who could die though? Natasha. Which is why I really-”

“Tony?” Steve shifted and Tony could hear him opening a door, probably to their suite. “Shut up.” The door clicked behind them and Tony sighed. He would have to let Steve play his beloved role of mother hen. The man’s mind was set. Tony could sneak off after Steve thought he was asleep.

Steve used the dimmer switch in the bathroom to turn the lights on low, and finally set Tony on his feet. He left his arms circled around him and brushed a kiss against his forehead. “You gonna let me take care of my fella now?”

The small show of affection had the desired effect on Tony. He tried to act nonchalant.“Yeah, yeah. Go for it.” But he was relaxed against Steve’s solid mass. What could he say? Steve was like heroin.

Steve shuffled them closer to the tub. Even though he could have Jarvis start up the jets, he liked to do it himself, and he fiddled one handed with the knobs to the hot tub sized bath, getting the temperature just right and adding some scented oils.

Now that he’d conceded defeat, even if just for a bit, Tony took the time to mentally file all of his projects away. Without all of them at the front of his mind he was able to focus on the here and now; the sound of rushing water, the heat of Steve’s body against his own, the combined scents of lavender and peppermint. And huh, yeah, he did feel really shitty, and his head definitely wasn’t supposed to feel like a bowling ball. He sagged, leaning more of his weight on Steve, who bless his heart, didn’t utter the ‘I told you so’ he deserved to.

“Alright, doll. Can’t be getting in with your clothes on.” Steve murmured, his voice lilting with the Brooklyn drawl it sometimes took on. His hands moved fluidly to both support Tony and slip his shirt over his head. The only help Tony offered was stepping out of his pants.

When Steve scooped him up bridal style Tony emitted a squawk of indignation, which was ignored, and then he didn’t really care because he was being carefully lowered into sudsy, bubbly, hot, scented bath water.

The effect was instantaneous. Tension drained from his muscles, and the oils cleared his nasal passages, allowing him open and clear deep breaths. Even his head felt a little lighter.

“Mmm. Airways feel minty and crisp.” Tony let his head roll to the side to gaze at Steve through heavily lidded eyes. “Can airways feel minty?”

Steve smirked and sat on the edge of the tub. “Sure can.”

“You could sure get in here with me.”

“Sure could. Sure won’t. Sex isn’t on my, or any, list of prescribed allergy remedies.”

Tony huffed, “it’s on mine.” but didn’t push the issue. The outcome would be a stalemate anyways. One of Steve’s large, capable hands worked its way through Tony’s hair, combing it and scratching his scalp. The touches were exceedingly gentle, and the last of Tony’s thoughts of resistance disintegrated.

Eyes closed now, Tony struggled to stay awake. He should never have let himself be lulled into such relaxation. It allowed everything to catch up. The running nose, watering eyes, itching throat, and a head full of cotton built on days of little to no sleep or food was too much to contend with. His plans of giving Steve the slip were mere whispers now, and he drifted closer to sleep.

The last words he heard before he drifted off were Steve’s gentle, “rest, Tony. I’ve got you.”


	2. Armchair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A is for Armchair  
Rated E for explicit adult content.  
Porn without plot. Chair sex. Top Steve/Bottom Tony.

“Fucking jesus, Steve.” Tony panted at the ceiling, head tipped back and eyes closed. Two of Steve’s fingers were buried inside Tony’s ass, scissoring and twirling to open him up. Whether quick or unhurried, Steve’s fingering skills were wickedly good. Today he was going slow, and it was both exquisite and maddening.

“We’ll get there doll. Lemme have my fun.” Steve replied in a deep baritone.

Patience wasn’t something Tony had in spades at the moment, and he slammed his hand against the back of the armchair they were sitting on to prove it. Or rather Steve was sitting on while Tony straddled his lap. What had started off as innocent shared chair snuggling, had quickly developed into a make out session, then into hungry hands and scattered clothes.

With a grin Steve conceded a bit, adding another finger. He liked taking his time opening Tony up, feeling the resistance he started with, and the way he split and spread until he was gaping. He rubbed and pressed against Tony’s satin inner walls, lingering longer than necessary until Tony growled heatedly.

“I swear I will go take care of this,” he motioned at his pelvis, “myself if you don’t get a move on!”

“Sure you will.” Steve smiled indulgently. Lucky for Tony, Steve had hit his own threshold. He twirled his fingers a few more times before he withdrew them, coated himself with more lube for good measure, and grabbed Tony’s hips.

As Steve predicted, Tony reached behind himself and grabbed Steve’s girth with an exasperated, “finally.” Before he could position himself and sink down Steve tightened his grip and stopped him. “Steve, I swear to fucking-!”

“Hey, just want you to look at me.” Steve cajoled. He was painfully hard, leaking and roaring to go, but he wanted to see Tony’s face, the way his expression changed as he finally took Steve inside him.

Intrigued brown eyes met his, and a cocky smirk spread Tony’s lips. Now that Steve had that bright intoxicating gaze he was mad for, he allowed him to move. Tony arched the small of his back and sank onto Steve’s cock. As much as he wanted to just drop down, that obviously wasn’t Steve’s pace today, and he figured he could humor him. A little.

Flushed a gorgeous pink from his cheeks down his neck, Steve focused on Tony’s expression who’s eyelashes fluttered and mouth dropped open in a long, shuddering gasp. Steve answered him with an equally enthusiastic moan as Tony’s heat slowly engulfed his length.

After what felt like minutes to him but had only been seconds Tony was fully seated. He felt as overstuffed as the chair they were perched on. Not that it really mattered, but sometimes he wondered if Steve’s dick had always been so big, or if the serum had enlarged it to make him proportional. 

Fully adjusted, and feeling a little insidious, Tony rolled his hips languidly, and then suddenly switched to a frantic rhythm. His eyes shone with mischief as he maintained the eye contact Steve had insisted on.

Steve rumbled low in his chest and tightened his hold on Tony’s hips again, halting his movements so just the tip of Steve was inside him. “Don’t be a brat.”

“But, I’m good at it.”

“Good thing I’m stronger than you then.” Steve countered as he used that strength to slowly lower Tony back onto his cock. 

Tony tried to take back some control, to increase the speed even just a bit, but Steve was right, he could do nothing to manipulate the tempo. A thrill shot from his dick to his finger tips. He was at Steve’s mercy. It made him quiver, and he allowed himself to ride the waves of the slow slip and slide Steve was hell-bent on.

The thighs bracketing Steve bunched with tension and then relaxed, while Tony’s lips parted. Each exhale had an audible sound to it, and Steve knew Tony had finally surrendered completely. He rewarded him by leaning forward and latching onto his throat, sucking hard and slow, pleased with the ragged whimper it pulled from Tony.

Not one for being a spectator, Tony’s hands moved south. One rested on Steve’s shoulder while the other tweaked one of his rosey tight nipples. It earned him a buck of Steve’s hips before Steve returned to his unhurried pace. Sometimes he got like this, so invested in the moment that he could hold out for what felt like forever to Tony. Endlessly patient, Steve soaked in every sensation.

As the minutes ticked on Tony thought he was going to lose his mind. His nerve endings were on fire, and Steve was sucking across his collar bones, paying no mind to the needy way Tony was pulling on his blonde hair.

Steve lifted his head, pupils blown wide, lips pouty and debauched. Tony looked blissed out and wrecked, just the way he liked him, the way he wanted him. Goal achieved, he released his hips and smoothed his palms up his sides.

At first Tony kept pace, unaware that Steve had given him free reign. It wasn’t until Steve’s fingers trailed back down, raising goosebumps on his heated flesh, that he realized he was free to set the pace again. He’s too desperate to retaliate for the game Steve had played. His hips slammed down, and he surged forward, smashing their lips together.

The two men tangled tongues, seemingly attempting to see who could devour who first. Steve clutched Tony’s ass, one cheek in each hand, and spread them apart. It made Tony moan lewdly into the kiss that soon had to end in favor of oxygen.

“That’s it, Tony. Come on, doll. You’re almost there.” Steve encouraged breathlessly. His own hips were moving to meet Tony now, their sweat shining skin slapping together obscenely. Tony’s meaty ass giggled in Steve’s hands.

The sound Tony made could only be described as half sob and half laugh. Almost? That was an understatement. He’d been tortuously built up to the precipice and kept there for too long. He moved to grab himself. One jerk and he’d be done. A hand grabbed his wrist and his dick actually twitched.

“Steve, yousonofabitch!”

“Wanna see you come on my cock. We both know you can do it.”

Determination and desperation urged Tony on. It didn’t even feel like he was telling his body to move anymore. It just was. He clenched around Steve while frantically working his hips and legs. The angle wasn’t right though, and Steve knew that. Which Tony had just enough presence of mind to realize was intentional.

Since he clearly wasn’t going to get any help from Steve, he angled himself backwards, bowing in an elegant arch and finally Steve’s cock hit his prostate spot on. His vision tunneled and his rolling moans filled their bedroom.

Strips of cum painted Steve’s stomach and up to his chest. He took in every bit of Tony. The way his eyebrows scrunched together, and his cock jerked free in the air with his release. It was perfect, and Steve let go of his self control. His hips bucked off beat and then he held Tony flush against his lap, groaning deep and reverberating. As he expended his release, dick throbbing with it, he went from wound tight to a boneless puddle of satisfaction.

Tony slumped forward against Steve’s heaving chest. The room seemed silent now with only their gasps filling the space.

When Steve caught his breath enough he wrapped his arms around Tony and held him close. The afterglow of fuzzy warmth and contentment he was chasing surrounded them like a bubble. He turned his head to press his lips against Tony’s temple, and then couldn’t find it in him to move, so he just kept them pressed there as he waited for Tony’s breaths to even out more. Even with the arc reactor removed, his lung capacity wasn’t what it used to be.

Just as Steve was sure Tony had fallen asleep on him, the genius chuckled lightly. “We’re going to have to move this chair. Or throw it out.”

“What? Why?” Steve straightened, trying to get a look at any part of the chair. Had they broken it? Stained it beyond repair?

“Peter always sits here.”

Steve froze. “I’ll move it tonight.”


	3. Battery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B is for Battery  
Rated T.  
More fluff. Stubborn sense of duty Steve. Caretaker Tony. A little hurt/comfort.  
It's Tony's turn to intervene.

It had been three days. Tony knew, because he and Jarvis had been counting. To the naked eye Steve seemed fine, but anyone that really knew him could see the subtle signs that he was pushing himself too hard. Again. This time he’d bounced from a mission, to natural disaster relief, to drills, to volunteering at the local soup kitchen. All very worthy and noble causes of course, but he wasn’t invincible, no matter how much the world believed him to be.

So, Tony posted himself in the lobby of the tower. It was almost always empty, and it was kind of boring, but he refused to miss Steve’s arrival. He passed the time getting lost in plans to make the lobby into a cool hang out spot for Peter and friends, and when the automatic doors finally slid open to reveal the good Captain, Tony had nearly completed them.

“Jarvis, put the soup on.” Tony said as he walked up to meet Steve, hands casually in his pockets.

“Hey, Tony.” Steve briefly brushed his lips over Tony’s cheek, and then headed for the elevator. Tony didn’t take offense to the cursory greeting, and followed close behind him. “Jarvis, Business level please.”

The doors closed, and Tony rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting for the moment. The elevator passed the floor dedicated to the Avengers' offices and Steve frowned, head quirked to the side.

“Jarvis? You passed Business.”

“Yes, sir. I am aware.”

There was a time that Steve would have continued puzzling, and asked Jarvis why he was deliberately not listening. They’d been together long enough now that instead he fixed Tony with a glare. 

“Tony.”

Tony looked up at Steve with a grin.

“I have work to do.”

“I cleared your calendar.” Steve opened his mouth to argue, but Tony steam rolled on. “Don’t worry, I checked to make sure nothing was time sensitive or life threatening.”

Another, “Tony.” This one more of a warning.

“Nope, you don’t get to ‘Tony’ me, Cap. I’m calling Code Kissing the Choo Choo.” The elevator slowed to a stop, but the doors remained closed.

“You can’t just use that whenever you want, Tony. It’s meant for extreme circumstances.”

“It’s meant for taking care of each other. You haven’t slept in three days, maybe more, I can’t be certain when or if you slept on mission. I know you haven’t been eating the way your freako metabolism needs, and I can see the tension in your shoulders and left leg a mile away.” Tony prattled off, and then crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Now, are you going to honor the terms of our agreement, or am I going to have to call in reinforcements?” 

For a moment Steve floundered between glaring and conceding. As soon as Tony threw the word honor into the ring Steve’s shoulders sagged a bit, and Tony could practically hear the winning bell.

“That’s my man.” Tony softened, and ran a hand down Steve’s arm to squeeze his hand. “You can go back to being maniacally obsessive about saving the world tomorrow.” Now that Steve had acquiesced the doors slid open, revealing their floor of the tower.

“I’m not maniacally obsessive.” Steve grumbled, which Tony ignored. He gave his hand a little pull, and set off towards their room, Steve following behind obediently. Tony stopped by their bed where he had laid out a set of clothes for Steve.

“Change into these. Exactly these. Then sit your ass in bed.” Tony pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek and went back to the elevator. As he’d asked, the lift was back and inside of it were bags of take out. 

By the time he’d returned Steve was sitting in bed and Tony's eyes erupted with hearts. As much as Tony loved Steve’s skin tight shirts, he also adored seeing him like this. The shirt was thin with use and a little too big, and the plaid pajama pants were the kind of soft you could see.

More tension seemed to leak from Steve. Whether it was from the adoration Tony had just looked at him with, the smell of food, or both, Tony didn’t know or care. He strode over and set the bags on the storage ottoman at the end of their bed.

“Kum Kau. All your favorites.” Tony informed him as he pulled out three styrofoam takeaway boxes, one for him, two for Steve.

“You should have lead with that.” Steve scooted his way up the bed to lean against the headboard. Blessedly, he already seemed a bit more relaxed. Getting him to sleep would be more of a challenge. Steve had an annoyingly self-destructive sense of duty.

The two settled in, and Tony turned on The Two Towers, a favorite comfort movie of theirs. He didn’t spend much time watching it, focusing instead on Steve. The super soldier devoured both boxes, confirming Tony’s suspicions he hadn’t been eating enough. Tony was expecting him to be hit by a food coma that would knock him out, but instead Steve pulled out his phone, presumably checking his email, and what Tony had cleared from his calendar. Tony kind of wanted to yell at him, maybe chuck his phone against the wall. Instead he leaned his head against Steve’s shoulder.

“A wise woman once told me that not everyone runs on batteries.”

Steve stopped scrolling through his mail and lowered the phone. “Pepper?”

“Who else?”

Steve deflated a bit more. “There’s just so much to do. So many people who need help.”

“And not enough hours in the day.” Tony added, and massaged Steve’s left thigh. It was like a rock, and when Tony dug his thumbs into the muscle Steve winced ever so slightly, which meant it hurt a lot. “And if you want to help as many as you can, you gotta take care of you too.”

Steve snorted. “Pot, kettle.”

“Hey, that’s the point of Code Kissing the Choo Choo. To stop the other from killing themselves.” Tony kept up the massage, but reduced the amount of pressure he was using.

Steve stared unseeingly at the TV. Though Tony was rubbing his leg, his posture began to relax as well. “Can’t you invent something that makes it so we never have to sleep?”

Tony laughed, “sorry, babe. Even I can’t bypass or replace sleep. I tried.” Steve seemed to be getting closer to slipping off, and Tony nudged and prodded him until he was horizontal, head cushioned on one of their memory foam pillows.

“It’s alright, Steve. There’s time to take a load off.” Tony slipped up behind him, taking up the role of big spoon. He couldn’t encompass Steve the way he’d like to, but he could still offer the firm pressure of his body against his back, a solid and reassuring presence.

With each passing minute Steve relaxed a bit more. The movie was halfway over by the time the hand in Tony’s finally went limp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Return of Code Kissing the Choo Choo! :P
> 
> Hopefully I'm doing these two justice so far.
> 
> More fluff and smut to come. And finally, angst!


	4. Bruise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B is for Bruise.  
Rated E  
Biting/bruising/marking. Possessive Steve. Possessive Tony. Strong sexual content. Horn dogs. They are both little shits.

Steve’s jaw was strong, just like the rest of him, and he had no problem using it to grind his teeth harder into Tony’s shoulder. The genius hissed as his body arched and twisted, instinctively struggling even though he was totally on board with what was going on.

This wasn’t a regular occurrence. Every once in awhile they were both bulldozed by the need to claim, to mark each other’s flesh with bruises, teeth marks, and nail scratches. It was impossible to predict what was going to set the urge off. 

Today it seemed that the upcoming public gala had them both feeling possessive. Between the press and the disrespectful advances they both usually received, Tony really should have seen it coming this time.

After Steve deemed his dental records properly embedded into Tony’s shoulder, he released his hold and then soothed his tongue over it. The imprint was already bruised with small dots of red peppered in.

Before Steve could pick a new spot, Tony grabbed his hair and yanked, forcing his head back. He surged forward and latched on high at his throat where everyone could see. He started off sucking hard, carelessly loud, and then bit over the mark he’d raised to the pale skin. Steve moaned and his hands held tighter to Tony’s hips, undoubtedly pressing bruises there as well.

Tony aimed to a new spot. His plans were foiled when Steve grabbed his wrists and pinned him to the bed.

“Mine.” Steve growled, and launched an assault on Tony’s neck. The smaller man could do nothing but squirm, gasp, and moan. A particularly hard bite wrung a cry from his lips, and he bucked his hips. He loved it when Steve got like this.

After only seconds Steve released Tony’s wrists in favor of getting his hands on any other part of Tony he could. He scratched his nails down his sides and then grabbed his ass, squeezing his cheeks and then using his grip to press their hips flush together. Their clothed dicks rubbed against each other and Tony gasped sharply.

Tony’s own need to lay claim to his boyfriend had him twisting until he could get his teeth on Steve’s neck. He made a mental note to ask Jarvis for the footage later. He was sure they looked like a couple of vampires the way they were twisted and pressed together, sucking and biting at each other’s flesh like maniacs.

“Mine!” Steve repeated more emphatically.

Tony opted to rumble his own muffled, “mine,” while he worried Steve’s flesh between his teeth, refusing to let go.

Abruptly, Steve drew back to straddle Tony’s waist and survey his work. He apparently came to the conclusion that he’d missed a spot, because he dove back down to remedy the situation.

Unable to get his teeth on any part of Steve’s neck in their new position, he turned his head and latched onto Steve’s forearm instead. His hands traveled down to work on the buttons of Steve’s pants. They’d been at it for far too long to not be naked.

Tony’s thoughts of sucking Steve’s brains out through his dick were rudely interrupted by the voice of his very own A.I.

“Sir, Captain. As requested, this is your ten minute warning.”

Both men froze and Steve’s head jerked to look at the old fashioned clock he insisted on having, and then down at the rumpled mess that was Tony and himself. Their suits were wrinkled, their shirts untucked, and ties loosened.

“Damn.” Steve quickly jumped off the bed and rushed over to the mirror.

Tony didn’t respond with anything near Steve’s concern. He just rolled over and whined. “Let’s be late.”

Hastily, Steve focused on putting himself back together. “Sorry, doll, but you’re going to have to wait for the grand finale until after.”

“Steeeeeeve.”

The blonde ignored him in favor of making sure he was sufficiently presentable, before turning around and forcing Tony to his feet. “Think of it this way, the anticipation is going to make it so much better later.”

“Says you.” Tony groused, but didn’t put up a fight when Steve busied himself with fixing Tony up. The taller shook his head, lips curled in fond amusement as he put the final touches on Tony’s attire. He took a step back, looked Tony up and down, and then nodded.

“Perfect.”

“I know.” Tony replied easily.

The two boarded the elevator, and arrived in the lobby a minute early. Which was probably a record for Tony.

The rest of the team plus a few others were already waiting for them. Pepper checked her watch in thinly veiled surprise, proving that Tony was never so timely.

“Well, Captain. You certainly have been good for Tony’s punctuality.” She announced on their approach with a smirk. “He never- Oh my god!” Her eyes widened, and then narrowed as she yanked Tony forward for inspection.

“You look like you’ve been mauled!”

Tony tried to look down but he couldn’t very well see that high up on his neck without a mirror, and then looked up at Steve. If Tony’s neck looked anything like Steve’s, then yeah, Pepper was spot on.

“I take it back! I would rather him be late than look like this! Let alone the both of you! Are you two part octopus now? The press is going to have a field day! You couldn’t have at least tried to cover up?”

“Steve’s might heal up by the time we get there?” Tony tried. 

“Oh, I am not dealing with this. You get to handle the backlash. I’m sending all negative press and any request for comments your way.” Pepper declared, and then turned her sharp glower to Steve. “And yours.”

“Of course.” Steve nodded solemnly. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Pepper glared between the two and then sighed. “Alright. In you get. We don’t want to keep the sharks waiting.” Happy helped her into the limo, and Steve and Tony followed, doing their best to look appropriately chastised.

After the limo full of Avenger’s plus Pepper, Rhodey and Happy had been cruising for awhile, everyone properly distracted by conversation, Steve wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist and pulled him in close to whisper in his ear, “worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut because I believe Tony and Steve both have high sex drives.
> 
> I promise not every chapter will be fluff or smut though. ^_^;


	5. Command

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C is for Command.  
Rated T.  
Light angst. Drama. Argument. Angry and shouting boys. Avengers related fight. Stubborn Tony. Bad communication.

He’d meant it when he’d told Cap that following wasn’t really his style.

It wasn’t until he felt Steve had earned himself the title of a competent leader that he got better about saying yes without argument, and following through with Steve’s orders.

The problem was that sometimes Steve was wrong. 

So, sometimes Tony diverted from Steve’s orders and plan.

Today was one of those days. And it was also one of those times that Tony’s noncompliance royally pissed Steve off.

The two marched down the gleaming hall of the business level. Steve was half in combat gear, and Tony still wore his undersuit. They looked like a united front, in pace together and glowering. In reality, they were ready to ram heads.

They reached their destination, and as soon as they were through the threshold Steve slammed the door. He must have restrained himself, because it didn’t break.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Steve rounded on Tony, words booming with the built up force of restraining himself until they were behind closed doors.

“Me? Your plan would have taken twice as long. Twice the casualties!” Tony fumed.

“Did you calculate that in the two seconds it took you to do exactly the opposite of what I said?” Steve spat.

“Yes! It was obvious. You were letting your emotions get in the way. And I get it, you’ve had to make a lot of tough decisions, and because of that you’ve lost people close to-”

Steve’s eyes erupted with rage and he took a step closer to Tony. “Don’t dare say you get it! If you did, you wouldn’t be going off plan! When we’re on a mission, in the middle of a battle, it’s paramount we stick to it!” He stepped forward again, towering over Tony. “Going off book and doing what you think is best is how people get killed.”

“And you think your plan was operation bullet proof?” Tony moved forward in the spare space between them until they were nearly touching. “Your plan would have insured my safety, but not the thousands of people milling around those streets. Mine risked my ass, but it came out unscathed. I call that a win!”

“Today you made it, but what about next time? Or the time after that? You say I’m the boss, but you treat my commands like suggestions!”

“Commands?!” Tony seethed, his voice taking up every inch of the space of Steve’s office. “I’m sorry, I thought we were your teammates, not your dog sled team.”

“Oh for- Fine! Orders, directions, whatever you want to call them. This is about you risking your safety and the team’s-”

Tony shoved Steve in the chest, forcing him back a step. “Screw you! I didn’t put any of the team in danger!”

Steve’s eyes flashed and he walked forward, head tipped down so they were nose to nose. “Yes. You did. No one knew what you were doing. What if their reactions put them at risk too? What if Natasha had tried to offer you aid, and she got taken out? What then?”

Tony flinched as if Steve had struck him. He recovered quickly, and sneered, “well then we both might have died, but you know who wouldn’t? The innocent civilians. Or are you putting our lives over there’s now, Captain America?”

He’d only said it to hurt Steve. He knew he’d been successful, and gone too far, the moment Steve’s eyes lit with anguish for a split second before his temper took back over.

Vibrating with emotion, Steve turned and swept his lamp clear off his desk, sending it shattering against the wall. “Dammit, Tony!” He turned away and wiped his hand down his face. “Don’t you get it?” He turned to look at Tony again. “You scared me! And yes, the civilians are my priority, but I can’t run the gamble on your life all the damn time. And you know what? We don’t know that more civilians would have died if we’d gone with my plan. You. Don’t. Know that.” Steve’s chest heaved.

In a disconnected corner of Tony’s mind he knew this is when he needed to back down, to meet Steve in the middle. It was clear that Steve was mad because he’d been scared. Not because Tony had challenged his authority. But instead of the, ‘I’m sorry. We should work on a compromise for when situations like this happen’ that should have come out, he declared a flat;

“Thank fuck for that.”

He turned his back on Steve, swung the door open, and left.

His brain screamed at him the entire way to his lab to turn around and go apologize.

Sometimes Steve was wrong, and sometimes he just cared too much. And sometimes Tony couldn’t get passed his own ego and issues with authority.

When the door of his workshop slid closed behind him Tony sagged back against it.

“I’m an asshole.”

“Yes, sir. I quite agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because these two are really good at fighting.


	6. Choke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> C is for Choke.  
Rated E.  
Strong sexual content. Breath play. Tony sucked so much dick in his early twenties (shout out to my boy Lucien!). Porn without plot. Smut. Both of them like being on the receiving end.

Steve’s hand was able to wrap around Tony’s neck until his fingers met in the back. His other hand lay flat against the wall beside Tony’s head, trapping him in.

Wide brown eyes met his in anticipation, and Steve dipped down to press a line of open mouthed kisses down the column of Tony’s throat.

“So, I was looking into that idea you had about your suit. I found a way to accomplish it. I just have to-” Steve’s hand tightened, and Tony’s heart stuttered “Combine them on a molecular level-” Steve’s hand tightened more, effectively cutting off Tony’s words, and sending a thrill of excitement to his groin.

It had taken multiple conversations, and several educational sessions to convince Steve that asphyxiation during sex could indeed be safe, and not abusive. And furthermore that enjoying it it was nothing to be ashamed of.

It still took some coaxing from Tony for Steve to use a heavier grip because the big ole sweetheart was still apprehensive of his own strength. If you asked Tony, Steve was more hyper aware of what he could do than any other person, living or dead.

The pressure on his throat was just enough to restrict his airflow without cutting it off completely, and his eyelids fluttered shut on an exhale that wheezed. His hands moved from where they were clutched to Steve’s waist to tug his shirt out from his waistband.

Years of working with his hands kept them functional enough to hurriedly work open the buttons on Steve’s shirt, who rumbled a deep chuckle at Tony’s eagerness and released him so the shorter could push his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.

Finally, he had Steve shirtless, and he catapulted himself forward. His mouth latched onto Steve’s shoulder before descending down to his chest to flick his tongue against one of Steve’s nipples. Steve’s breath hitched, and Tony wrapped his lips around it to suck on it harshly.

He didn’t release it until Steve emitted a low groan of bliss. He blew a breath across the hardened nub, causing goosebumps to erupt over Steve’s flesh, and moved on to his other nipple, while his hands swept down the expanse of his back to his narrow waist. “Heh. Heh. Dorito.”

One of Steve’s hands grabbed the back of Tony’s neck, giving it a squeeze of warning, and Tony leered up at him. The more comfortable Steve got with things like this, the more confident he got exploring different facets of his sexuality. Sure, he liked his share of rough sex, but this was different. It was kink and taboo. And amazing.

A slight increase of the weight on Tony’s neck is all he needed to move on, and he dropped gracefully to his knees while hastily unfastening Steve’s buckle and outdated stuffy khakis. He tugged them open only enough to release Steve. The bead of cum on the head, and the pulsing vein that ran along the bottom betrayed Steve’s composure.

Tony took it in hand and then paused to look up at Steve. The color of Steve’s eyes seemed darker than their usual pale blue, and it sent a shiver of pride and delight down Tony’s spine. He gave Steve’s dick one soft, slow stroke, and Steve’s lips parted with a shaky breath.

Before Steve could rightfully accuse Tony of being a tease, he wrapped his lips around the head and suckled lightly. He kept at it until Steve’s hand came to rest on his head, and he finally descended down his shaft until his nose was buried in Steve’s golden pubic hair.

Enjoying drawing things out, Tony stayed where he was, and swallowed around Steve’s significant girth. The answering groan he heard from above him would have made him smile if he could have.

He swallowed a few more times, because he liked to get Steve wound up, until Steve’s hand tangled itself in his hair and gave it an urging tug. Tony pulled off completely and smirked up at his lover.

“Tony, I swear. If you don’t-”

Tony cut Steve off by licking a long stripe along the underside of his dick. And then he was done playing with his prey. He grabbed the base to hold it steady, and then engulfed it in the wet heat of his mouth once more. He bobbed his head, and hollowed his cheeks, increasing his speed with every pass until he had reached a steady pace that some people would have found uncomfortable. But he was proud to admit he was a bit of a pro. He had sucked so much dick in his early twenties.

It’s only a few minutes before Steve gives up on not moving. The tension leaked from his legs, and Tony steadied himself with one hand on Steve’s hip, knowing what was coming.

The hand in Tony’s hair tightened. Tony stilled and rolled his eyes up to look at Steve. The man was blissed out, his pupils dilated, cheeks dusted with pink, and lips parted. And then Tony let Steve take over. His hips pushed, sliding his dick in and out of Tony’s mouth at a leisurely pace. It wasn’t long before the tempo changed, and he used his grip to shove Tony down and thrust forward at the same time.

The action forced Steve deep down Tony’s throat, and Steve held him there, until Tony was choking and desperate for air. Then he pulled him back, fucked his mouth a bit more, and did it all over again.

By the fifth pass Tony was so turned on he could have rubbed himself off over his jeans. But that wasn’t nearly as fun as what he could do instead.

Taking Steve by surprise, Tony grabbed Steve’s wrist to break his hold while surging to his feet. He walked forward, shoving Steve back against the nearest wall with surprising force. A picture fell. The sound of breaking glass went ignored.

“Your turn, babe.” Tony growled as he quickly unbuckled his jeans. As soon as his dick hit the air he wrapped his hand around the both of them and began pumping. Before Steve could say anything for or against the development, Tony’s other hand wrapped around Steve’s throat.

When Tony had first mentioned this particular kink, Steve had been worried for many reasons. One of them being that if he was on the receiving end he’d freak out. But it wasn’t like drowning, and as long as he could see Tony’s face, he knew he was okay, and he could surrender to the other physical sensations it provided.

As Tony’s grip tightened, Steve became more aware of the sensation of Tony's breath puffing against his neck, of his calloused hand sliding over their hot flesh, and the pleasure heightened. He felt his dick twitch when Tony cut off his air completely, and his mouth hung open, eyebrows scrunched together.

Tony leaned forward, head tipped up to whisper in Steve’s ear. “Come on, big guy.”

Two strokes later and Steve was done. As soon as Tony felt the first warmth of Steve's release he leg go of his throat, and the rush of oxygen turned the crests of pleasure into tidal waves. He’s faintly aware of his own moans, and Tony following close behind him.

Both of them spent, they sagged against each other. Steve’s chest heaved as his body caught up, and he wrapped his arms around Tony's waist. So far, Tony hadn't been wrong about spicing up their sex life. It was fun, it felt good, and nothing they'd done so far had spent him into a spiral of shame. Maybe they could try that impact play thing next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all enjoyed! I like having them do some kinky spice up their sex lives things without them being officially into BDSM. Unless they're in a dom/sub AU,. Then it's all aboard.


	7. Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:  
D is for Dog.  
Rated T.  
PTSD. Mental Health. Rescue dog. Dogs solve everything. Sam Wilson helps. And loves dogs. Nervous Tony. Tony just wants to help his boyfriend. Emotionally hurt Steve. Flashbacks and nightmares mentioned. Tank.

It smelled like piss, and it was nearly impossible to hear Sam over the commotion of the dogs. Kennels lined either side of the room, each one inhabited by a hopeful furry face. A woman was talking to them, providing information on the adoption process no doubt. Tony ignored her in favor of looking down both lines of cages. 

Originally, he had been looking at puppies from a local breeder. But after a talk with Sam, he quickly changed gears. Adopting a dog from a rescue was the only option.

A nudge in the side and a look from Sam, and Tony conceded to at least taking his sunglasses off. Eye contact would be important after all. The dog had to like him too. At least a little bit.

Sam must have assured the woman they would let her know if they had any questions, because she stepped away to give them some space.

“Alright, man. Anyone jumping out at you?”

There were a few, but Tony shook his head. “No, I want to see them all.” 

Sam nodded in understanding, and the two strolled over to the first kennel on the left hand side. The canine was undoubtedly adorable, but according to the profile hanging in a sheet protector, he wasn’t a fan of men, which he then vocalized to them with a low growl.

The next few had greeted them with enthusiasm, and took longer to decide on. A yellow lab named Alfredo with soulful eyes was the first one to be added to Tony’s mental list of maybes.

After awhile he forced himself to stop loving on her, and moved on to the next cage. The little Yorkie yipped at them, and Tony immediately slid away.

“Ohhh. Aren’t you just a cutie. Hewwo. Hewwo baby cutie. Ohhh, whos a floof? Yous a floof.”

Tony pivoted back around, eyebrows raised incredulously. Sam was crouched down in front of the Yorkie, sticking his fingers through the chain link. When he finally noticed the stare of judgment he scowled.

“I like all dogs. You gotta problem with that?”

Tony shook his head with a, “nope,” popping the P. “Just the cooing and the goo goo ga-ing.”

“Shuttup.”

After ten more minutes there were a couple more dogs he thought would be a good fit. They were only halfway through, and he had a feeling whittling down the list at the end would take the rest of the day.

Until they reached the kennel of a dog who looked like a bear. Or a wolf. Like a bearwolf.

Tony stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the dog, who sat still, wagging his tail, and looking up at them cheerfully. Tony tore his eyes away to look at the dog’s “profile.”

“Hugo, huh?” He had been brought in as a stray. He was also used to living in a home and was good with people.

“Ma’am?” He called across the room, and then again when she didn’t hear him.

“Yes!” She came jogging over, looking excited.

“I’m curious. How do you know he’s used to living in a home?”

The woman’s face, Carolyn her name tag read, fell and she looked at Hugo. “When we brought him in we scanned for a microchip like we always do. He had one, but when we called the owners..” She sighed, and there was anger mixed with the sadness now. “His owners said they didn’t want him anymore. Which normally means they lost him on purpose.”

Tony’s frown deepened as the woman explained, and he heard Sam mutter “assholes” behind him.

“I second that.” Tony replied grimly. Hugo still hadn’t moved except to tilt his head to the side. Tony crouched down on the cement floor and tilted his head to mirror Hugo’s. “Hey, buddy.”

The dog trotted forward to stick his nose through the kennel fence. Or the tip of it anyway. His snout was too large to fit any further than that.

“Well, you seem to like me okay…” Tony stuck his fingers through to give the dog a little scratch, who leaned into it heavily and looked at Tony. His eyes were shining with intelligence, and a sorrow that reminded him of Steve.

“We’ll take him.”

———

It was weird, Sam and Tony taking off together after lunch. They weren’t enemies, but they weren’t exactly friends either.

Which was why Steve was sure they were up to something. He hadn’t had much capacity or willingness to try to figure it out though. 

The last month had been rough. His success with adapting to being thrown from war to 70 years in the future had screeched to a halt, and then back pedaled. The therapist Sam insisted on him talking to suggested it was because Steve hadn’t taken, or been given, the time to adjust properly. Instead, he’d buried all of it until his mind couldn’t handle it anymore, and dug it all back up, forcing him to face it.

He’s not sure about all of that. What he is sure of is he’s sick of it. Sick of the nightmares that had him avoiding sleep, and that plagued him when he couldn’t resist it anymore. Sick of his own short temper, and the way everything new felt utterly and completely overwhelming. 

What he was sick of the most was the small things that set him off. One would think that gunfire and explosions out on the field would give him flashbacks, but no. It was cold, it was water, it was trains, and it was the stupid ice cubes in his drink.

So, instead of mulling over what Sam and Tony could possibly be up to, he had been in the gym, beating the shit out of equipment, his go to activity after a “panic attack” the therapist had called it.

Now he was headed to the shower, which he would have to turn to burning, and leave the door open so he could see that he was, in fact, in Tony and his bathroom.

Having taken the stairs, Steve punched in the key code to their level, and went to the kitchen for a drink first, choosing Gatorade over water.

At first he didn’t think Tony was in, but then he heard his voice and Steve relaxed minutely. Tony would sit on the sink and babble at him to make the shower easier. Even better, Steve wouldn’t have to ask him to.

“No, get down. Down! Alright, now just, stay still long enough...” There was the sound of scuffling and what sounded like someone doing a potty dance, and then a clicking of something being fastened. “There. Finally. Alright. Now, sit.”

Steve’s curiosity officially piqued, he strolled around the kitchen island towards the sound of Tony’s voice. It seemed to be coming from the bedroom.

“No. Sit. Sit.” Tony sighed in exasperation. “Come on. You did it for Sam!”

Steve paused in front of the door, face screwed up in confusion, and then pushed it open.

The scene it revealed wasn’t something Steve would have ever predicted.

Tony was holding a giant red bow, and making a hand signal at a huge black dog, while pushing ineffectively on it’s ass. Not a robot dog, an actual dog. Tony spotted Steve and actually jumped in surprise.

“Steve!” Tony stepped in front of the dog, as if he could hide it. “You-you’re here! Um. I-”

Tony didn’t get to finish his sentence. The dog bounded towards Steve and then jumped up on him. His paws came to rest on Steve’s shoulders and the dog barked once, the sound deep and excited.

“Hey, there handsome!” Steve exclaimed and grabbed the dogs head, petting it behind the ears. The dog licked his face, and Steve felt a little lighter. “And what’s your name?”

“Uh. Well, I was kind of hoping you would name him? His name is Hugo, but I think we should change it. Give him a fresh start. I mean, it’s up to you though.”

Steve raised his eyebrows at Tony and the man fidgeted with the bow. “Well, you see. I’ve been researching some things that’ve been suggested to me in the past. Thing is I never really was a pets kind of guy, and keeping a dog alive sounded like it would just add more stress to the whole problem in the first place.” Tony blew out a breath.

“Soooo. Why is there a dog here then?”

Tony fidgeted and then plowed on. “Well, you are a pets guy, and the science backs it up. So I looked into it and I found this place that will work with you to train your dog as a service dog, so then I was like, awesome, I’ll get Steve a puppy!”

“But then Sam told me I should rescue one instead, because you’d like that better, and of course he was right. So…” Tony finally stopped jabbering and took a deep breath. “Yeah. He’s yours. Hence the bow.” Tony held it up, smiling weakly. Now that he was trying to explain himself, he wasn’t sure it was a good idea anymore. He’d bought Steve a freaking dog!

“Mine?” Steve marveled quietly, and looked down at the dog again.

“Yeah. Dogs are proven to reduce stress, anxiety and depression. They can also be trained to be a PTSD service dog. So, you could do that. If you want. I reserved you a spot just in case. I figured you’d want to train him yourself. Seems more your speed.”

Steve didn’t say anything. He just kept petting and stroking the dog and staring at him. It made Tony anxious, and he had already crumpled and crinkled the bow beyond repair by the time he noticed he was wringing and twisting it.

“Um. Unless, I was wrong. And then I’ll..Give him to Peter or something.” Tony would not bring Hugo back to the rescue. Not after what he’d been through. Heck, he wanted to take five of the canines home. Sam reminded him that though most of the Avengers liked dogs, five would be pushing it, and Natasha wasn’t above making Tony’s life hell in retaliation. So he’d settled for donating them five million dollars instead.

Steve tore himself out of the daze he was in. “What? Wrong?” Steve laughed. “Tony, this is amazing!” The way Steve’s face lit up reminded Tony of the first time he’d taken Steve to The Met. It was an expression Tony hadn’t seen on Steve’s face for far too long, and he grinned back.

“Oh, thank god. You had me going there for a minute.”

“Sorry, really. I am. I just..You got me a dog!” Steve exclaimed. Tony laughed, and Steve gently coaxed Hugo back onto all fours. “And he’s freaking huge!”

Tony kept smiling. “Yeah, definite selling point. Big guy needs a big dog.” He came over to stand beside Steve, looping an arm around his waist. “So, what are you going to name him?”

Like a loon, Steve stared down at his new best friend. He was tall, and deep chested, with thick fur that gave him an appearance of a bear, but he was slender framed like a wolf. He looked like he could mow anyone over, and he turned to press a kiss to Tony’s forehead before crouching down to be eye level with the dog.

“Tank.” The dog’s ears perked and Steve grinned. “You like the sound of that? Tank?” The dog barked and started dancing from foot to foot, which must have been what Steve had mistaken for the potty dance sound earlier.

Laughing, Steve straightened. “Alright, buddy. Sit.” Tank’s butt hit the ground fast and he looked up at Steve with the proudest, happiest face either of them had ever seen.

Tony threw his hands up in the air. “You’ll sit for him? I see how it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by a head canon my buddy Lucien and I have. And I'm so freaking happy I wrote it. Tank may have to return in future stories!


	8. Doll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D is for Doll.  
Rated T.  
Pet name. Nickname. Tooth rotting fluff. Sweet. Soft romantic Steve. Soft boys. Clint is a little shit.

The first time Steve called him doll Tony almost choked on his coffee.

It wasn’t that he was offended by the pet name. It was that it felt like it belonged in the same category as boo bear, or snookums.

And apparently, Clint agreed.

The archer leaned forward, his expression cracking into one of pure delight. “Doll?”

Steve wasn’t abashed at all, and shrugged. “Been waiting a long time to call someone my doll.”

Meanwhile, Tony got refamiliarized with what blushing felt like. After all that he’d done and been judged for publically, very few things could embarrass him anymore. Except apparently a cheesy nickname.

Clint draped himself theatrically over his chair. “Oh, Tony, you are such a doll.” He pawed at his arm like a schmoozing elderly lady.

“Oh shut it bird turd.” Tony snapped. 

Steve frowned. “I’m sure it’s a little outdated, but is it really that bad?” He looked so disappointed that Tony immediately felt guilty. It was a sweet name back in the 40’s after all. Of course Steve would like and want to use it. Like he’d said, he’d never had the chance before.

“Nope. Not at all, big guy. I love it.” Tony smiled and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then glared in challenge at Clint.

Immediately Steve relaxed, and his concern broke into a dopey smile. “Good.” He returned to smearing peanut butter on his five pieces of toast, and Tony poured himself some more coffee while he pointedly ignored the gagging faces Clint was making.

“And now, I must descent to my mad scientist lair.” Tony announced. He gave Steve’s ass a quick and discreet squeeze as he left the two in the communal kitchen, heading to the elevator and still red in the cheeks.

“See ya later, dollie!” Clint shouted after him. Tony flicked him off above his head.

———

Over the next few days, Steve dropped the pet name sparingly. He seemed to like to reserve it for when he was feeling particularly sweet.

Every time Tony reacted equally as affectionate in return, and ignored that it made him want to wrinkle his nose. It was worth it to see how happy it made Steve.

It was a Sunday morning, the one day that Steve “slept in” as he called it. Which to Tony was massively overselling it. 8 AM was not sleeping in. Especially not on a Sunday.

Tony was brushing his teeth, groggy eyed even after his first cup of coffee. He smiled when he saw Steve in the reflection of their wall to wall vanity. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and kissed his neck. “Hey, doll. How you feel about pancakes for breakfast?”

After spitting into the sink, Tony turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Make ‘em blueberry and we got a deal.” 

Steve chuckled and gave Tony a little squeeze. “I’ll be in the kitchen upstairs then. Gonna make enough for the whole team.”

It wasn’t until after Steve had left and Tony was halfway dressed that he realized he hadn’t felt his usual aversion to being called doll. He paused in buttoning his jeans and looked upwards at the ceiling.

“Huh.”

———

Within a month Tony was all about it.

Every time Steve called him doll warmth pooled in his chest, and he didn’t feel a smidgen of embarrassment or distaste. The fact that Steve used it sparingly helped it to not lose its potency.

And then sometimes his Brooklyn drawl kicked in, and Tony was sure if he was made up of any more than the 60% of water that he as a human was, it would make him melt.

It got to the point that Tony looked forward to the sound of it rolling off Steve’s tongue, of the moniker being attached to him from Steve.

And then Steve had been called in.

It hadn’t been the longest time Steve had been away on mission with his merry men. Two weeks still warranted worry and pining, and when Steve gave news he was going to be home Tony both relaxed in relief, and spasmed with joy, making for a very unfortunate looking fit he was sure. 

Unfortunately, Steve still had travel and debrief, and so it was impossible to predict when he would actually get home. So, Tony showered, and went to the communal level to kill some time, which today took form in kicking Clint’s ass in Super Smash Bros.

Hours went by, and every time the elevator doors opened Tony perked up only to deflate, until finally they slid open to reveal his hunkasaurus rex. 

Tony leapt to his feet and launched himself over the back of the couch. Thankfully Steve had quick reflexes and he caught Tony in his open arms rather than Tony straight up football tackling him.

“Jeez, doll. You’ll make a guy think ya missed him or something.” Steve laughed.

The rush of love that came up through Tony’s chest shot up into his throat and split his face into a foolish grin. He smashed his lips against Steve’s while pulling him closer, completely ignoring that they had an audience.

“Awww. Did the pretty little Tony miss being called a doll? That’s so sweeeeet.”

Tony twisted in Steve’s arms, his expression morphing from elated to furious.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP BARTON!” Flames may have surrounded his face. He wasn’t sure, but he hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore Steve using phrases and slang from the 30's and 40's.


	9. Desk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D is for Desk.  
Rated E.   
Porn with minimal plot. (Let’s be honest no plot.) Smut. Top Steve/Bottom Tony. Steve and Tony fight. Angry sex. Workshop sex. Hard sex. Rough sex.

They had been fighting. Again. It was a common enough occurrence. They were both stubborn, passionate, assertive, and unyielding. All qualities they loved about each other, and that could make for a disaster when they disagreed on something.

And this was one of those times. Tony was 90% certain that what they were fighting about didn’t warrant this level of blow up, but the words they’d thrown at each other put them way past the point of no return.

“-you are still so selfish! This isn’t about-” Steve’s tirade was cut off when Tony launched himself at him, smashing their mouths together so fiercely Tony cut Steve’s bottom lip.

It wasn’t the first time one of them had snapped and resorted to working out their frustrations sexually. It made for a good outlet for their rage, that was for sure. And hey, nobody had to swallow their anger, they didn’t throw fists, and they got to get off. Screw anyone who said angry sex was unhealthy for a relationship.

Tony jammed his knee between Steve’s thighs and grinded his leg against his crotch. Mouth demanding and forceful he pried Steve’s lips open and then sucked his tongue into his mouth as if he wanted to pull it right out.

Hands guided by his own anger, Steve dragged his nails down Tony’s back to grab handfuls of his ass. His nails dug in and he wrenched Tony closer against himself. It forced Tony to stand on his toes in order to keep control of the kiss, and apparently Tony didn’t like that, because he bit Steve’s tongue. Hard.

Steve’s eyes flashed. He grabbed Tony by the waist and spun him around. Ignoring Tony’s snarl of indignation, he reached around him and quickly unfastened his jeans.

“Make yourself some room.” He demanded, voice all hard cutting glass with no room for argument.

“Congratulations. Your testosterone has taken on a visible shape.” Tony growled back before he swept his arm over the work table he was now staring at, sending papers, pens, hand tools, and snips of wire across the floor. It didn’t matter to him who was pitching, as long as it was fast and hard for both of them.

“Shut. Up.” Steve yanked Tony’s jeans down and pushed down on his back, forcing Tony to brace his hands on the cleared off desk.

Tony tipped his head back and laughed. “Don’t count on it, oh Captain America the great and righteous.”

Gaze hardening even more, Steve kept Tony pinned one handed, and yanked open the closest drawer to him to carelessly rummage through it. No matter how angry they got, he didn’t want to cause Tony any everlasting damage.

It only took him seconds to find a jar of Vaseline. He quickly applied the lube substitute to his fingers, and pressed two to Tony’s opening.

Tony grunted when he felt the pressure of two rather than the customary one, and then they were breaching him. It wasn’t too much, but it was still a burn and a stretch, and Steve was not taking his time. Not today.

The prep Steve gave him was perfunctory at best. Quick, mechanical, and hard. Steve’s fingers pushed, twisted, and scissored while his free hand gripped Tony by the hip, keeping him just as he wanted him no matter how Tony squirmed.

Steve withdrew his fingers and Tony hung his head to catch his breath, chuckling lowly. “The great and chivalrous...”

The jangling sound behind Tony had him fortifying his position, bracing himself for the inevitable; the angry too much sex they both craved and needed right now.

The head of Steve’s cock pressed wet against him and Tony exhaled shakily. “Come on, then Captain. Fucking do it!”

Two hands grabbed Tony by the waist and then yanked him backwards as Steve slammed his hips forward. Tony snapped his head back and gritted his teeth, hissing between them. Steve had prepped him enough to not do any actual damage, but it still hurt, and was too much, too quick, too overwhelming.

Even enraged as he was Steve sensed it and stilled for a minute, allowing Tony to adjust just as much as was necessary before he began moving again. Steve was a machine, pulling and pushing Tony’s body in time with his own hips. It was hard, fast, and borderline violent, and Tony could barely get a breath let alone form words, which was probably part of Steve’s plan.

For a while their heavy breathing and skin slapping together were the only sounds in the workshop. Until Tony adjusted to the pace enough to gather his voice.

“Anger leads to suffering, young Padawan.”

Steve didn’t even verbally respond. He just growled low and then there was 240 pounds of broad muscle manhandling Tony forward and then pinning him down against the work table. Tony yelped and his hands went scrambling for the edge of it.

And then Steve was bent over him, and he latched his teeth to the back of Tony’s neck.

“Jesus, you trying to make some animalistic statement here, Rogers?” Tony snapped..

Steve rumbled wordlessly, and then he straightened up, and jack hammered into Tony who decided he really didn’t want to delay their release any longer. He pushed himself to his elbows to better absorb the shocks, and arched his back just so. He could feel the bruises from Steve’s grip, and from where his hip bones were driving into his ass, already developing, and the desk started rocking more and more with each thrust.

With the new angle, it wasn’t long before all bets were off. Tony let his head fall forward to rest against the desk, and he released some of the most pornographic sounds he ever had. And he’d actually made sex tapes.

Steve leaned forward and released Tony’s hips to instead brace on the desk on either side of him. It made a sound shake from Tony and he rose to steady himself on one hand, and then reached back and grabbed Steve’s hip with the other.

Now Steve was using only the power of his body, and it was all the better. His muscles worked and bunched to deliver strength to each punch of his hips, and he bowed his head to rest on Tony’s back.

They were both close, had been for awhile, both staving off their own releases out of spite. One hand wrapped around Tony’s member, and then tightened.

“Hearing and listening are two different things, Tony.” Steve snapped, picking up on an earlier thread of their argument. And then he let go of Tony’s dick, and his climax hit him like an avalanche. It slammed into him, swallowed him, and swept him away. He couldn’t even breathe through it, mouth hung open and entire body going taught with it.

It didn’t slow Steve down any. If anything he was moving faster, and in the back of his mind Tony imagined him moving like the agents in the Matrix. A low moaning growl built in the chest pressed against Tony’s back and then Steve shoved him forward flat against the desk again, and grinded his hips, emptying himself deep inside Tony.

The workshop fell suffocatingly quiet after that. Steve stayed inside Tony, his hand braced on the small of his back and head bowed as his chest heaved. Tony lay boneless on the desk, breaths puffing against the glass, heavy lidded eyes focused on the mess he’d swept onto the floor.

After a few minutes Steve tenderly pulled out of Tony, and tucked himself back into his pants. Without a word, he turned and stormed out of the workshop. Tony was sure if it wasn’t a sliding door, he would have slammed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that I'm not sorry.


	10. Earmuffs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> E is for Earmuffs.  
Rated T.  
Short and sweet. Fluffy goodness. Adorable. Cute. Winter time. Hot dog cart date. Tank makes an appearance.

No one man was allowed to be so. Fucking. Cute.

It was the only thing Tony could think about for the first five minutes of the walk he and Steve were taking down to their favorite hot dog cart, Tank happily trotting loose leash by Steve’s side.

It was their first winter together, and with Steve’s trepidation of the cold, and it being New York, the two had bundled up significantly. Sweaters, coats, gloves, scarves, boots, and hats. And in Steve’s case, earmuffs.

“You know, hats are more effective, they help retain the heat that escapes from your head.” Tony had reminded him.

“I know. I just like ‘em.”

So now they were strolling down the sidewalk, and Steve was wearing earmuffs that should have looked really stupid, but instead were heartrendingly precious.

They were fluffy and navy blue, which made the super soldier’s eyes pop, and they framed his face something special. The most intriguing and darling thing about them though, was that they somehow made Steve look younger than he already did. 

Tony loved the power of presentation. That even something as simple as earmuffs could highlight the boyish twinkle in Steve’s eyes and smile.

By the time they got to the cart Tony was shivering but also sweating in that way that only occurred when you were bundled up and active on a below freezing day.

“A Mikey footlong for me, please, and one with no bun for this guy.” Steve patted Tank on the head, his smile bright and genuine, his cheeks flushed red with the sting of the air. 

Tony was so busy admiring Steve that he didn’t realize the owner was staring at him expectantly.

“Oh, sorry. Just a Mikey hotdog for me.” Before Steve could do his stupid chivalry thing Tony pulled out two twenties and handed them over. “Keep the change.”

While they waited they chatted, and flirted, and it was getting increasingly difficult for Tony to keep his hands to himself. Their relationship was public, but Tony was pretty sure if he shoved Steve down right there on the sidewalk and started dry humping him, that would be crossing at least one of their lines, and most of the unsuspecting bystanders’.

Instead he played with Steve’s scarf. It was the one with the reindeer pattern. It didn’t match the rest of his outfit at all, which would normally be annoying to Tony. Today it was just endearing. Unable to help himself, he kept interrupting their conversation to stand up on his tiptoes and press kisses to different parts of Steve’s face. His nose, left corner of mouth, jaw line, right corner of mouth, cheek…

“Since when are you Mr. Bing Crosby?”

Tony huffed and tapped two fingers to the left earmuff. “These? These are stinking adorable.”

“Adorable?” Steve asked incredulous.

Tony chuckled and patted Steve on the chest. “You bet your tight ass they are.”

Just then Tank let out an excited bark and they both looked down at him in surprise. So far he’d taken well to his training, and instead of sniffing around and reacting to the busy world around them, he’d been sitting beside Steve, head on a swivel, “checking his six” as Steve would call it.

And doing a good job of it. The vendor was staring at them expectantly, their order in hand.

“Oh, right. Sorry!” Steve blushed and fumbled to grab the bag. Tony watched in open amusement and fondness as Steve opened it to dole out the sustenance. First feeding Tank who devoured his footlong in seconds, and then handing Tony his. Steve’s cheeks were flushed even brighter now, both with cold and bashfulness.

“Yup. Stinking Adorable.”


	11. Floral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:  
F is for Floral.  
Rated T.  
Antique shopping. Old fashioned. Decor. Tony is particular. Tony has an aesthetic. Comfort. Familiarity. Steve Rogers feels. Tony Stark has a heart.

The first time a floral printed pillow ended up on his sofa, he didn’t think much of it beyond, “ew.” 

Then a few weeks later he opened the cupboard in the communal kitchen only to be faced by three ancient looking, paisley and floral patterned mugs. He wrinkled his nose at them, and pushed them aside in favor of a Pac Man one.

He didn’t spend any second thoughts at the incidents, until he encountered the flowery painting hanging in the living room that he had definitely not purchased, nor ever would. It looked like something he’d have found in his mother’s tea room.

“Nat, you’re not harboring some secret affinity for feminime soft patterns, are you?” Tony inquired one day, leaning against the kitchen counter.

One perfectly shaped brow rose. “Tony, you know I don’t do patterns.”

“Well, then has Thor discovered antique shops? Because these,” Tony motioned to the bar stools lined up against the island, “seat covers have to be from the 50’s, and not in a wow what a cool vintage find way.” 

Natasha looked annoyingly amused and smug. “No, not Thor.”

“Oh, so you know who is to blame for the slow floral takeover then? And you have not chosen to divulge this pertinent information to me?”

She stared at him, measured and blank, like she did when Tony was being thick skulled, and missing something that was plain and obvious to her. Which really wasn’t fair, because she was a secret ninja assassin spy.

“Bruce? Bruce is too minimalist. Steve? I’ve never seen him-” He stopped and narrowed his eyes at her when she made a ‘yeah, obviously’ face at him.

Pressing his hand to his heart, Tony mocked some major hurt. “Steve? My precious Steve? Oh, how I have failed him!”

Natasha’s expression hardened and she grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard enough to be a threat. “Tony. You are not to give him shit about this.”

“But, but Nat. It’s-”

“Tony. Think about it. He gets these things at antique shops, and puts them around the tower. Why do you think that is?”

Now that he was being challenged to actually consider it, which come on, rude, he paused to mull it over. Steve was going out to buy people’s old as dirt possessions, and decorating the tower with them because...Well, he must like them. Probably because he was technically old as dirt too, and he was surrounded by the most modern decor possible courtesy of his futurist boyfriend. The antiques made it feel like home to him. The realization made Tony wince.

“Not a word.” He promised. And he meant it.

In fact, he meant it so much, that he started swapping out some of the decor all on his own.

He didn’t add or replace as much as he subtracted. He purposely would remove the throw pillows from a room, and within days they would be replaced by worn in ones of various designs.

Slowly, things became more mismatched. It set Tony’s teeth on edge, but the effect it had on Steve was visible, and if the small compromises he was making did that, he was more than okay with it.

One day, Tony was adjusting his tie, getting ready for another board meeting from Hell, when Steve came in with a new, well new to them, giant canvas painting of a winter scene. He froze when he spotted Tony. His shoulders drew up, and he smiled guiltily.

“Uhhh. Hey, Shellhead.” He lowered the painting and faced it in towards his leg, trying to take the focus of attention off it.

Tony finished with his tie and walked casually as ever over to Steve. He grabbed the painting and turned it to get a better look. “Hmmm. Would go best in the bathroom I think. It’s got the same blue as those new hand towels.” Which actually were new, but covered with, in his opinion, heinous flowery swirls.

When Tony looked up at Steve he was actually gaping down at Tony, and he couldn’t help but grin.

“Okay, for one, you had to know I’ve noticed by now. I’m not that oblivious. Quite the opposite really. You know that.”

“I know.” Steve deflated. “I was just hoping, you know maybe-”

Tony raised his voice enough to speak over Steve, “and two. Do you really think I would deny you the comfort of familiarity? I’m not that much of an asshole.”

Steve’s mouth shut with an audible click, and then his brow furrowed. “But, you’re so particular. About design and even your clothes, and-”

“And I love you, and you live here, and it’s fine.” Tony cut him off again.

For a few long seconds Steve just stared at him, and then his face was breaking into one of his free smiles. The kind that were rare and Tony strived to collect. “How’d I get such an amazing fella?”

Humming, Tony grabbed Steve by the waist and pressed a kiss to his lips. “No idea. Now, go hang that painting.” Tony patted Steve on the hip, and returned to his primping.

Before Steve could make it to the bathroom Tony paused and half turned. “But, Steve.” Steve halted, and his face fell as if expecting Tony to drop some awful condition. “If you ever swap out our bedsheets you’re sleeping on the couch.”

The startled and joyous laugh that erupted from Steve was better than sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello amazing readers!
> 
> I just wanted to give you guys a heads up that going forward there is going to be some heavy angst in some of these. So, please read and heed the tags in the beginning notes!
> 
> Thank you! ^_^


	12. Grave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DARK chapter. Material may be triggering. Please read and heed the tags below.
> 
> G is for Grave.  
Rated M.  
Major character death. Grief. Angst. NOT HAPPY.

The sun was sinking and taking some of the heat with it. It was muggy, and Tony welcomed the cool evening air. He had been sitting here for...he didn’t know how long. The back of his neck pulsed with sunburn, but it didn’t matter. Not to Tony.

For the 1,494th time he gingerly swept his hand over the name etched into the marble, and then he went back to trace the letters.

S T E V E N G R A N T R O G E R S

Tears pooled in his eyes again, and he dropped his hand back into his lap.

He supposed he should say something. He hadn’t said one damn thing the entire time he’d sat vigil at Steve’s grave.

“You were supposed to outlive me.” He finally rasped, and then hung his head on a hitching exhale. “You were supposed to outlive me. You would have. But you just had to jump on one more damn grenade.”

Curling in on himself, Tony squeezed his eyes shut. The grief and rage swirled together deep in his chest, and then rushed up into his throat and he nearly choked on it.

Unable to keep it in any longer, he screamed at the grass, “It was supposed to be me! It was my grenade, dammit! You just couldn’t let it be anyone but you! Mr. Fucking Noble Self Sacrificing Asshole! You-” Tony twisted his neck to bury his face into his own shoulder.

For a few minutes Tony kept his face hidden, his breaths hitching and pulse spiraling. When he lifted his head his red rimmed eyes met Steve’s name with resigned defeat.

“What am I supposed to do, Steve?” His voice trembled as much as his hands did. “You were the glue. You were the fucking bright shining beacon. You were my beacon.” He huffed a raw, humorless laugh and shook his head.

No one would ever be able to fill the hole where Steve used to be. Not in Tony’s life, not in their friends’ lives, and not on their team.

And Tony knew that if Steve was able to say anything to him, he would tell him he had to keep fighting. He’d tell him he had to because the world needed Iron Man, and Tony Stark. Steve was an optimistic inspirational dumbass like that.

Those thoughts just made him feel more crumpled. It was like he was a basket of balled up papers, and someone had dropped a match in him. Slowly he burned, the edges of him curling in on themselves. Seeking relief, he crawled towards the grave stone. Some people had tried to insist it be in the shape of the shield, but Tony had squashed that. This was Steve’s grave, not Captain America’s.

He leaned his back against the warm stone, and pulled his legs up to his chest. At this point, he really didn’t care what he looked like. This was a kind of grief he hadn’t felt since his parents.

More time ticked by until night swallowed him. Under the cover of darkness, he felt more at peace, and some tension drained from his shoulders.

The chasm in his chest ached, and he felt like he was about to have another breakdown. But he knew. He knew he had to get up. Steve would have believed in him, and pushed him. He owed Steve to keep going, to keep working towards making the world a better place.

Emotion rose into his throat again and he whispered, “I know, Steve. I will. Just...Not yet.” Tony leaned his head back and tears freely rolled down his cheeks and behind his ears.

“Not yet.”


	13. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet chapter after the angst of the last one. =P
> 
> H is for Hands.  
Rated T.  
Waxing poetic Steve. Artist Steve. Confident Tony. Fluffyness. Some sexual references/content.

There were many things Steve liked, some things he loved, and only a few things he was obsessed with.

One of those things, was Tony’s hands.

It had started out small, like most obsessions did. It was the cuts and burns, old and new, that covered them. It was that Steve didn’t have to feel them to know how weathered and rough they were.

And then he had felt how rugged they were, and the scope of his interest expanded. They scratched slightly against his skin, and they felt capable. They were capable. They were nimble, and dexterous. And they had a strength that only an engineer as actively involved in his craft could.

They became a fascination for Steve within weeks. When Tony would fall asleep during a movie Steve would trace the contours of his fingers, and the lines across his palms. When Tony was working and Steve was sketching on the couch, it was usually Tony’s hands he was drawing. It was only a short while before he could draw them from memory, and then he figured that was creepy and he should stop. He didn’t.

When Tony would touch him, or open him up, Steve’s world seemed to narrow down to just the point of contact between him and Tony’s hands. To how his fingers would curl and twist, and how they both commanded and asked. There were times that Steve wanted to be Tony’s clay. To let him sculpt and forge him into whatever the genius wanted.

Sometimes Steve would just watch Tony do things. It didn’t matter if it was a complicated task, or menial. He just liked watching the way Tony’s fingers moved.

His two favorite things to watch Tony do was work, and get dressed.

It wasn’t often he had enough time, and their schedules matched up, for him to watch Tony get ready for the day. When it was possible he would lounge on their bed with Tank, and pretend to be looking at something on his tablet. In reality he would be following Tony’s every move.

Even after excessively scrubbing, Tony’s hands were stained with the evidence of his work. Steve watched them elegantly glide his button up off it’s wooden hanger, and then vanish into the sleeves. They pulled and situated the well pressed collar, and his fingers were precise and quick in their practiced task of fastening each button.

It was a board meeting today, and so Steve got to witness Tony tucking the shirt into his pin striped slacks. His hands glided over all the fabric to smooth out any wrinkles, and then it was on to picking a watch. 

Tony’s fingernails were cut short as always. It left the tips of Tony’s fingers exposed, but he said he preferred that over breaking, or losing, a nail. They drummed against the side of the watch case, and Steve let his head fall backwards to stare unabashedly.

Tony took his time getting ready. The unhurried pace was relaxing and reassuring. Steve tuned out everything except for Tony’s hands. They knotted his tie, and slid smoothly down the cloth to ensure it was laying just right. One hand moved up to his hair to tweak a few pieces, and that’s when Steve realized Tony was watching him in the mirror.

Quickly, Steve dropped his gaze and clumsily fumbled to turn the tablet’s screen back on. At a chuckle from Tony he sheepishly looked back up.

Tony was grinning at him in the mirror. Slow and deliberate, Tony put the final touches on his look, holding Steve’s gaze. After he deemed himself finished Tony strode over, moving in what Steve referred to as his panther prowl. When he reached the side of the bed he looked down at Steve, eyes twinkling knowingly.

“I’ll be back around one.” He leaned over and traced his fingers down Steve’s cheek and jaw to grab his chin. Steve visibly shivered and Tony smirked. “Be here if you want me to take care of that hankering, soldier.”


	14. Hairbrush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H is for Hairbrush.  
Rated E.  
Spicing up their sex life. Kink exploration. Impact play. Trying new things doesn’t always mean liking them.

Tony’s back sloped appealingly, and then his body swelled into two round and supple mounds. They were meaty, and muscular, yet they had the perfect amount of jiggle to them. He accredited his bubble butt to the popular squats and lunges of the 80’s, and Steve was very grateful to the decade even though he hadn’t lived it.

Shamelessly, Tony lay on his stomach, a cushion under his hips to elevate his ass, and his head pillowed on his arms. He was trusting, while Steve was apprehensive. 

It wasn’t the first time they had tried something new in their sex life. Tony was big on keeping things fresh and exciting with these random “sexcapades.” Sometimes they were minor and didn’t require anything but a question, and other times they were more extreme and required discussion and preparation.

They had talked about this particular kink exploration ad nauseum. Despite Tony having done it before, Steve couldn’t help but be cautious. They had established boundaries, and both promised to speak up with their designated safe words if they were in too much pain, or just straight up hating it.

Taking some time to ease his nerves Steve squeezed and massaged the perky globes displayed for him. Already a fan of giving Tony’s ass the occasional swat, he was definitely into going a little further a try.

“Steve?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised, and Steve realized he must have been massaging his cheeks for much longer than he intended. “Are you sure you want to try this? Remember, unless we’re both on board, neither of us are.”

After a long exhale Steve replied, “do I want to try it? Yes. Do I want to hurt you? No.”

Despite having already done it many times Tony reassured Steve, “It’s supposed to hurt a bit, and if it hurts too much, I’ll say the word.”

Steve leaned down and pressed a kiss to one of Tony’s asscheeks. “Alright, shellhead. But I’m starting us off slow.”

And slow he went. He lifted one hand and landed it on Tony’s left cheek in a soft, uncertain slap. The usually snarky genius didn’t comment on the hesitance. He was fully aware that this kind of play was new to Steve, and he needed time to warm up and orientate himself.

The next slap came down a bit harder, and the next even harder than that. He kept dialed into Tony’s every reaction, and he knew when he’d hit the point of too hard when Tony’s hands clenched in the sheets and he gritted his teeth. After rubbing the spot in silent apology, he moved over a bit and delivered his next wallop there instead, toned down ever so slightly. Tony groaned and relaxed and Steve smiled. 

It wasn’t so bad now that he’d gotten started. He was faintly aroused by it, and as Tony had asserted to him over and over, Steve knew his own strength, and exactly how to deliver it to achieve whatever impact it was that he desired.

It wasn’t long before Tony’s cheeks had turned a delightful shade of pink, and on the last few strikes he had emitted soft moans. Steve figured Tony might be ready to step it up a notch, and he leaned back to assess the items Tony had laid out for him.

All of them were common enough household items. He’s sure Tony had actual props for this, but had chosen not to put them out, predicting that it would be too much for Steve, which he appreciated, because he was right.

There was a ruler that was tempting, a belt that he winced at, a hairbrush, and a wooden spatula. He picked up the hairbrush and tested the heft of it, giving it a practice swing. It was wider than the other options, and he liked the surface area. He didn’t want to leave cuts or welts. Pleased with his decision, he took a moment to gently caress Tony’s lower back.

“You ready?”

“Yes.” Tony breathed. Even if Steve didn’t end up liking this all that much, the eagerness in Tony’s voice was arousing in itself.

As he had with his hand, he started with a practice swat, and steadily built up the strength behind it. When he reached a certain amount of power Tony moaned, and tilted his head back. Encouraged, Steve used more force, and Tony’s hips bucked and he cried out. Despite having seen that reaction before for other reasons Steve froze, fearing that it wasn’t a pleasure reaction.

“Are you alright?”

“Yesyes. Fucking keep going!”

Tension leaked out of Steve and he delivered a few more well placed thwacks. Each one wrung a different noise from Tony, and he found himself being more turned on by the sounds and the sight of Tony’s ass jiggling than he was by the actual act of spanking him.

How much Tony was enjoying it was enticing as well. His body twitched, and his hips moved in aborted jerks every time the hairbrush met his flesh. Steve grabbed one cheek and growled at how hot and red it was, while he brought the brush down on the other cheek.

“Steve! Shit!” Tony shouted, and then his entire body tensed and shuddered. Steve’s lips parted and he massaged Tony’s cheeks through his climax. There was something satisfying and hot as heck about watching Tony cum from dry humping a pillow while being spanked.

“That was-”

“Incredible. Yes. Fucking hell yes.” Tony panted. He craned his neck to look behind him, eyes dopey in post coital haze. A small nick appeared between his brows when he looked down Steve’s body.

“You didn’t like it as much?”

Steve looked down at his half hard dick and shrugged. “I liked certain aspects. And I didn’t not like it. You made some first rate noises.”

Smirking, Tony prowled forward on his hands and knees. “Well, let me show you my appreciation for giving it the good ole American try.” Tony placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders, pushed him down and crawled on top of him. “And I’m going to take my time.”


	15. Infection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I is for Infection.  
Rated M.  
Hurt Steve Rogers. Rescue/escape. Hurt/Comfort. Liberties taken with science and super soldier serum because it’s made up and I can.

It wouldn’t be a problem if he’d had his suit. Then again, none of this would have been a problem if he’d had his suit when it started.

Not for the first time an enemy had set their sights on dismantling the Avengers. They didn’t all try it in the same way, but the gist seemed to be divide and conquer. These particular assholes had executed a Hulk smear campaign as their first move, and apparently their second one was to kidnap Tony.

They mostly kept him locked in a small room with no food, sound, or light. Every so often they came in to rough him up. Otherwise, they seemed content to leave him there to rot and slowly lose his marbles.

Even though he knew Steve would be looking for him, and if for some reason he couldn’t Rhodey definitely would, as the next few weeks drew on his hope trembled.

When he first felt the floor shake and heard the distant sound of what had to be an explosion, he assumed the sensory deprivation hallucinations had started. It wasn’t until the sounds grew closer, and his captors’ shouting became more panicked that he thought maybe he wasn’t imagining things. He maneuvered himself into a corner of the room and waited.

Just as quickly as everything started silence fell. Moments later the door burst open, and as much as he hated himself for it, he had to close his eyes and shield his eyes from the light.

A hand landed on his shoulder and he struck out, intent on landing at least one punch today. The person easily caught it, but they didn’t use the hold to twist his wrist, or hold him in place.

“Tony, it’s me. It’s Steve.” He sounded breathless, and raspier than normal, but there was no denying it was Steve’s voice.

“Oh, thank my lucky stars and stripes.”

“Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think so. They’ve mostly just been trying to get me to fly over the cuckoos nest. Nearly got there too.” 

“Good, because I had to come in here alone, and I don’t know how smooth our exit is going to be.”

\-------

When they made it far enough into the nearby woods, Steve finally conceded them safe enough to rest a beat.

He handed Tony a water bottle and then leaned against a nearby tree, breathing heavily and brows furrowed slightly. It was more than Steve ever let on, and Tony’s chest spasmed in panic.

He took a few well paced drinks of water, and Steve still hadn’t moved. Tony approached him and laid a hand on his arm.

“Out with it.”

Steve shrugged him off. “Out with what?”

Flat faced, Tony gave Steve’s opposite shoulder a slight shove, and Steve’s answering wince was the only confirmation he was going to get.

“Bullshit.”

Not waiting or asking permission, Tony shoved the shield down so he could get a better look at Steve’s right side. Sure as shit there was a deep gash running over his ribs. It wouldn’t have been anything to worry about, except that if it got infected before it could heal, which it probably would, Steve would be at risk.

“It’ll heal quick. You know that.”

“And you know that-”

In the distance they heard shouting, and Steve pushed off the tree. “No time. Come on.”

\------

About a mile later Tony realized that they were more alone than Steve had originally let on.

“Where the hell are the others?” Tony finally demanded when they had to stop so he could catch his breath.

“About thirty miles out. Their air surveillance made it impossible for us to fly in. Thor is still tracking Hulk to get him back. Hawkeye is still in medical. It’s just Widow and I. The agents we brought with are focused on taking down the organization and gathering intel.”

“Great.”

\------

Night came before they had made it another mile. It made their going even slower. Fatigue and exhaustion were finally catching up to Tony. What was more worrisome was that they were catching up to Steve.

“Cap,” Tony gasped, his pace slowing considerably. “I gotta take a break.”

Steve slowed down to a full stop. His expression was pinched with pain and exhaustion, and Tony nearly whooped in victory when Steve motioned to a nearby fallen tree. Steve the ever stubborn didn’t need to know he was exaggerating his own exhaustion in order to make Steve give himself a rest.

The two sat down and rested against the rotting wood. Steve leaned his head back and closed his eyes, forehead shining with sweat, which spoke volumes to the pain he was in.

“I’ll take first watch.” He still rasped.

\------

When Tony woke up Steve was awake, but he wasn’t on alert in the no nonsense approach he took watch. Frowning, Tony gently pressed his hand to Steve’s forehead. He flinched away but not before Tony felt he was hot. Fever hot. 

Tony growled. “Dammit, Rogers.” He shifted Steve’s arm so he could get to the pack he knew the boyscout kept his first aid supplies in. The soldier swatted at him, and Tony smacked his hand away. “Stop being a reckless jackass and let me clean it at least.”

Uncharacteristically, Steve’s hand dropped and he returned to resting his head. It was worse than Tony thought then. He grabbed the water bottle and poured some over the wound to get a better look. The skin around it was an angry red, and there were early signs of infection.

With so many miles to go and danger still on their tail Tony couldn’t remove Steve’s uniform, and resigned that he would have to work around it.

His first aid knowledge wasn’t terribly broad, but he knew enough. He firmly swept over and around the gash with alcohol swabs, and then pressed them further into it to try to remove as much bacteria as possible. Steve winced and hissed a bit but didn’t squirm. When he was finished he dressed it best he could. The bandages wrapped around Steve’s torso, and cut across the star on his chest. It gave Tony a foreboding feeling.

“That’s going to have to do for now.”

\------

Steve’s fever only got worse, as Tony had thought it would and Steve had tried to tell him to forget about. Steve had accelerated healing, which was normally great, except for when bacteria got into his body. It took advantage of Steve’s accelerated cells to dig its claws of infection in quicker, and stronger, and then the skin would heal over it, trapping it in.

At the two hour mark Tony knew they had to move on, and he gave Steve a gentle nudge. “Come on. Sooner we get to base, sooner you can get some proper doctoring.”

Steve mumbled something back at Tony who got to his feet and then hovered over Steve anxiously. He pushed himself to his feet well enough, but there was a sway to him, and a dazed look to his eyes that put Tony on edge.

“We got this, big guy.”

\------

He’s sure they’d only made it another mile before Steve tripped and fell to his knees. Tony steadied him by the shoulders and ducked his head to try to catch his eye.

“You are not stopping right now. You are going to get your patriotic hot ass out of the dirt, and you are going to make it to the base whether I have to drag you there or not!”

Steve nodded and used Tony to pull himself to his feet.

\------

They had to almost be there, because if they weren’t, Tony wasn’t sure they’d make it.

It had only been another half mile before Tony had to wrap an arm around Steve’s waist and take most of his super soldier weight. While his wounds weren’t life threatening, they were enough to make carrying Steve an even bigger struggle than it normally would be. 

Their water had long since run out, and the sun was rising steadily. Sweat soaked and muscles screaming, Tony pushed forward, his eyes aflame with determination. There was no way he was going to fail Steve. He couldn’t.

“Cap, we still going the right way?”

Steve’s brow furrowed and he mumbled something unintelligible.

“Cap! North, South, East, or West?”

The reply he received was weak and raspy, “East.”

“Okay, perfect. We’ve got this. You just hold on. A little bit longer. We’re almost there.” Tony comforted, even though he had no idea if what he was saying was true.

Steve didn’t say anything. He seemed to be on the brink of passing out, and he was using every last bit of his strength just to move his feet.

\------

The heat radiating off Steve was suffocating and downright terrifying. It was only a few hundred more feet before Steve collapsed completely, taking Tony down with him.

“Shit! No. Nonono. Come on, Steve babe. I thought you could do this all day!”

Steve didn’t seem to be completely aware of his surroundings, let alone Tony’s words, but he did chuckle weakly. That was all the response Tony got. Panic racketed up into his throat, and tears stung his eyes.

His only two options flashed through Tony’s mind. Go ahead and bring back help, or drag Steve the rest of the way. So really he only had one option. Tony couldn’t leave Steve behind. Wouldn’t. He maneuvered around him, and shifted Steve’s body so his back was against Tony’s legs. Taking a deep breath, Tony looped his arms under Steve’s armpits and walked backwards.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. We’re going to make it.”

\------

Just as Tony started accepting that the usually doable distance was going to defeat them, the sounds of trucks rumbling, and people walking and talking started to filter through the trees. Hysterical hope flared through him, and gave him a final spur of energy.

“Almost there, babe. I promise. We’re going to get there. You’re going to be okay. Hear that? We’re close. So close.” Tony babbled.

When they broke the tree line Tony heaved Steve faster and harder. “Medical! NOW!”

Everything went still, their presence and entrance apparently shocking, and then commotion exploded around them.

“Hear that, Steve? We made it. You’re going to be okay. Helps on the way.” Tony wheezed. In moments a stretcher appeared next to them, and Natasha and a few agents were helping move Steve onto it. 

The group took off at a jog to a nearby medical tent, Tony clutching Steve’s hand and eyes hard with conviction.

“Tony, you need medical atten-”

“Save it, Widow. I’m not leaving him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a hard time with this one for some reason. But it has been done!


	16. Joyride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for going MIA on this. Life has been hectic, in both kind and not kind ways. So here’s a short simple fluff to get back into the swing of things!
> 
> J is for Joyride.  
Rated T.  
Pointless fluff and sweetness. A small amount of sexual content.

The fresh air filled Steve’s lungs as he exited the tower onto one of the highest balconies. Tony had asked him to meet him there for a date. Steve assumed it was for a nice candle lit dinner out in the cool Spring evening air, but instead he was greeted by Tony in the Iron Man suit.

Panicked, Steve frantically dug his phone out of his jacket pocket. “Did we get called in? Why didn’t I get-”

The face cover slid up to reveal Tony smirking at him. “Cool down, boy scout. There’s no galactic threat or laser shooting diabolical bunnies.” 

“Oh..” Steve replied sheepishly. “So, what’s with the suit then? You better not be wearing that for our date.”

Tony’s grin widened and he walked up to Steve. “Wouldn’t be much of a date without it. I’m taking a leaf from Alladin’s book and I’m going to show you the world.”

This only confused Steve more, and the look on his face must have said so.

“Wow, have we really not watched that one yet?” Tony muttered almost to himself. “Looks like a Disney marathon is in our future. But, for now, I’ll rephrase. We’re going on an Iron Man joyride!” 

Now standing toe to toe, Tony firmly wrapped a chilly armored arm around Steve’s waist, whose face erupted with glee. The only time he got to ride with Iron Man was on assignment. He always wished he could actually enjoy it, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t, while in mission mode.

“Well, paint me green and call me lucky!”

Tony’s expression got caught between disturbed, and adoringly amused before he shook his head. “You’re a dork.”

“Yup!”

The laugh Steve earned was gold, and he smiled even wider. In the suit they were the same height, and Steve curved his arms around Tony’s shoulders. Once he was settled and holding on tight, Tony’s mask slipped down, and he shot up off the balcony.

The wind rushed through Steve’s ears, and blew his hair about wildly. Tony immediately did a loop and Steve whooped in appreciation.

Steve expected a fast, wild ride right off the bat. Surprising him, Tony opted for a lazy pace, as if they were taking a leisurely stroll. It allowed Steve to truly take in the view, and absorb every detail. The thousands of lights below were comforting in their presence, and though the wisps of clouds ghosted through his clothes, leaving him damp with chill, it felt ethereal. 

The moderate pace lasted longer than Steve thought Tony was capable of. When they reached an open field he came to a halt, and then dove down towards the swaying grass. Wildness expanded in Steve’s chest, and his heart pumped it’s own erratic drum solo. Even as the ground grew closer he didn’t dare close his watering eyes. At the last possible second Tony pulled out of the dive, and hurtled upwards again, the action accompanied by Steve’s holler of appreciation.

From then on Tony’s moves were focused on chasing the adrenaline they were both junkies for. Their hearts and guts dropped and lept, while Steve grinned the entire time. Even with Tony’s face hidden by the Iron Man armor Steve knew he was too. 

By the time they landed back on the Avengers tower rooftop, dawn was crawling up the horizon, and even Steve’s advanced stamina was waning. Tony’s mask slid open to reveal a grin so gleeful it was nearly maniacal. He took a moment to admire Steve’s completely pinkened face, and the way his hair was so tousled it looked like he was going for an electrocuted Einstein look. It was irresistible, and Tony brought their lips together in a fierce kiss.

Steve responded eagerly, and pressed himself into the hard metal of the suit. He exhilarated in the unyielding strength of it, and how Tony’s dominant side elevated when he was wearing the suit, before his sense of duty knocked on his head.

“Tony, we have to get some sleep. What if-” He mumbled into the kiss.

“Then we go get the job done exhausted and sexually satisfied.” Tony cut him off. Before Steve could argue anymore Tony lifted him up bridal style and carried him into the tower and towards their private floor, relishing that he could.

Part of Steve wanted to argue, and normally he would. They had a responsibility to protect the people, the planet. But his veins were lit with elation, and his skin was buzzing with excitement, so instead he set about kissing and sucking on the bare minimum of skin exposed to him. 

If they got called in, they’d handle it, but right now, they really needed to handle something else.


	17. Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:  
First off. Thank you and love to all the bookmarkers, kudo givers, and commenters. You all give me liiiife!
> 
> It has been far too long since an update. I think I'm finally passed my wall. I think. Fingers crossed.
> 
> K is for Knife.  
Rated M.  
Hurt Tony. Scared Steve. Injury. Blood. Angst.

All he can see is people milling about him, most in panic and others in work mode. The sky slides from view to be replaced with the roof of the ambulance. He reflects that out of all the big bads he’s fought, out of all the close calls and near death situations, he might just die today from a stab wound administered by a citizen with a grudge. 

“Tony stay with me!” Steve orders as he climbs in after Tony. He’s pretty sure Steve believed if he ordered someone to live they would.

The doors slam shut behind them, muffling the shouts and disorder of the crowd that had been attending the press conference, and he’s left with the medical talk of the paramedics, and Steve’s face wavering in and out of view. 

As his brain starts to catch up to what’s happening Tony tries to press his hands against the abdominal wound, stopped by Steve’s larger hands holding his own. There was blood all over Steve’s hands, all over him. Just before Tony is about to ask if Steve’s hurt he realizes it’s his own.

Everything was becoming fuzzy, and he’s having a hard time remembering what’s going on. His eyelids grow heavy, and he doesn’t even snark about the needle they stick him in the arm with, vaguely aware that they were feeding him blood.

Feeling loopy Tony smiles up at Steve and giggles, “I must have lost a lot, huh?”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. Not that Tony notices, eyes drifting closed and then peaking open again, as if battling sleep. Steve throws his head up to look at the paramedics. There’s a crack in his I-Must-Be-Strong-For-Tony armor, showing how scared he really is.

“We need to get there faster!”

“Sorry, Captain. Can’t go too fast or we risk making the injury worse.” The paramedic winces while the other one keeps himself busy keeping pressure on the wound.

If Helen Cho was at the tower with the cradle they wouldn’t have to worry about jolting Tony around. But she wasn’t, and by the time she would get there it would be too late.

Tony is out of it enough he begins to misidentify his surroundings. He attempts to sit up, but he’s held down by straps securing him to the stretcher.

“Tony, you need to stay still. It’s okay, it’s just Steve and the paramedics. You’re going to be okay.” He’s afraid that he’s lying.

Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Tony’s voice echoes in his head.

Though Tony can’t sit up he’s still struggling. Steve leans into his line of sight and his mouth goes dry. Tony’s eyes were glassy, seeing something far away. Not there at all.

Grabbing Tony’s chin Steve stares at him with determination and tenderness. “Tony, you need to get a grip. Got to hold on. All right?” He’s rewarded with a flicker of recognition. “For me, Bruce, Natasha, all of them.” Pauses to take a deep breath to stave off his own panic attack. Steadily, Tony seems to be connecting back to reality, and he meets Steve’s eyes and actually sees him. Steve can tell by the spark of honey in them. “You don’t get to quit. Remember? You get killed, you walk it off.”

That earns him a huff and a small smirk, and Steve grins, the toothy shining one Tony loved so much.

“M’gonna be okay, Mama Hen.”

The ambulance comes to a jolted stop, and the doors are torn open. The paramedics don’t wait for Steve as they unload Tony. There’s so many nurses and doctors Steve nearly gets lost in them. Taking advantage of his height and presence, he gets back to Tony’s side as he’s loaded on a larger hospital stretcher.

By the time they pass the automatic doors of the emergency department Tony looks worse. He’s as pale as paste, his eyes are closed, and he coughs and blood spittles down his chin. 

Pure panic wins out now He can’t lose Tony. The nurses take off at a light jog, pushing the bed down the halls. Steve is right there with them, gripping one of the rails and barely looking away from Tony’s face.  
“Tony, you’re a fighter. So fight, you hear me?” He’s not aware of where they’re going, or that they’ve reached the double doors to the O.R. until a nurse stops, forcing him to come up short.

“Sir. You can’t come in. You’re going to have to wait here-”

A large part of him wants to shove her aside and pull the “I’m Captain America” card, but his moral compass stops him as he shouts after Tony and the nurses. “Fix him! You have to fix him, you hear me?!” The doors swing shut behind them and Steve’s hands go to his hair, sliding between the strands and gripping it, turning his usual put together look into a harried mess.

The hallway is empty. The space around him is silent. He is alone.


	18. Knock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:  
K is for Knock  
Rated E.  
Smut. Humor. Worried Tony.
> 
> I know some of you are looking forward to L. Never fear, I have double posted!

Tony needed Steve. Needed him on his skin, around him, in his fucking lungs. He smashed their lips together in a harsh kiss with more lust than finesse. The shorter of the two walked forward, rushing Steve backwards until his back hit Tony’s tie dresser. Perfect. Tony grabbed Steve’s hips and spun him around.

“Jeez, Tony. What-”

“One week. You went dark for an entire. Damn. Week.” Tony growled. His hands wasted no time rucking Steve’s shirt up and the blonde lifted his arms with a huff to allow Tony to strip it off over his head.

“I told you I was. I warned-”

“I know that.” Tony snapped back. “It doesn’t change the fact that I have been freaking the hell out for the entire. Week!” He reached around and blindly unfastened Steve’s pants, and then pulled them and his briefs down in one go, leaving them to puddle around his ankles.

“It’s not like it was the first-”

Again Tony interrupted him. “I swear Rogers, if you’re about to say it wasn’t the first time I’m gagging you.” He grabbed Steve’s wrists and guided his hands to the edge of the dresser. Taking the hint, Steve braced himself on it, a thrill running down his spine.

Sometimes, most times, Tony reacted this way when Steve got back from a no communications mission. Steve didn’t blame him. Rather he understood. It was the same fear he felt when Tony was in a battle, that Tony would get hurt, would die.

Tony’s touch was firm, but not hurtful, as he ran his hands from Steve’s shoulders and down his sides to grip his hips. It was the touch of someone who needed to reassure themselves with the concrete existence of something, or someone. He pulled, forcing Steve’s ass back a bit more, and then his hands were gone.

The rustling sound of fabric told Steve Tony was removing his own clothes, and then he was pressed hot against Steve’s back. It unwound some of Steve’s tension, enough that Tony felt it, and he murmured, “that’s it, big guy. I’ve got you.”

At some point while Tony was undressing he had lubed up his fingers. He must have been keeping it on him just for this, and Steve is a little impressed he had the presence of mind for it. Usually Tony would think of something like that and then promptly become distracted by something shiny or that needed improvement.

Two of Tony’s rough mechanic fingers slid into Steve in one go, causing him to gasp and his toes to curl into the carpet. Clearly, Tony was impatient. He’d prep Steve enough, but quicker than usual. Steve loved when Tony got like this, and he tipped his head back, relishing in the feeling of Tony’s fingers moving in and out of him, swirling and scissoring every other pass.

It’s not long before Tony’s need to get inside Steve overruns his need not to hurt him. Not that he really would. They were careful when it came to prep.

There was the sound of more lube, and then Tony pulled Steve’s ass even further toward him with one hand, forcing the taller of the two to bend slightly, and then the hot head of his dick was against Steve’s hole and he groaned in anticipation.

With one hard press Tony popped through the ring of muscle, and he shoved his way inside. The action is accompanied by both of them moaning. It was relief, it was pleasure, and it was a little bit of pain. It was what they needed.

Without skipping a beat Tony pulled out and then drove forward again. There’s no casual, measured build up. Not today. Not with what Tony was chasing. It’s only after a few thrusts that Tony doubled the pace.

Calloused hands took hold of Steve’s narrow waist, and Tony began moving Steve in addition to his snapping hips, slamming him back onto his cock as he thrusted forward. Moaning, Steve’s hands scrambled for better purchase against the dresser. It pounded into the wall to the rhythm of their movements.

“Shit. Steve.” Tony growed, and bent forward to mouth against Steve’s back. In addition to the physical bliss he felt relieved. Steve was there. Steve was in one piece. Steve was alive.

Tony kept a relentless pace, and then he changed the angle of his hips and Steve is lost in an electrical current of bliss. He’s only vaguely aware of things rattling across the top of the dresser before falling to the floor. It just added to the noise of their slapping skin, and their grunts and moans.

“Oh my god! What is wrong with you?!”

Both men freeze, and Steve ducked his head down and away. There was no mistaking that voice. And he could NOT look him in the eye in nothing but his birthday suit, ass full of dick.

“Rhodey! Have you ever heard of KNOCKING?!” Tony roared.

“Have you ever heard of a LOCK?!” The door slammed shut behind him.

“That. Didn’t just happen.” Steve replied flatly.

“Oh, it did. Don’t worry. He should be used to shit like this by now.” Without any hesitation Tony resumed their pace as if they hadn’t just been interrupted by Tony’s best friend catching the entire show. Dick balls deep, Steve’s pale ass, and all.

“Tony-” Steve gasped in an attempt to say that it was kind of weird to keep going. “Shouldn’t we-” Tony hit Steve’s prostate again and he moaned loudly, head thrown back.

Well, they were almost finished. They might as well get there.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have made the walls so entirely sound proof.” Tony mused, drinking in the view of Steve’s perfectly sculpted body as he pounded into him.

“Tony. Shut. Up.”

“No really. I think I should take the blame for this one. I did too good a job on the walls.” Tony continued, and then he wrapped a hand around Steve’s dick and stripped it as he leaned forward to whisper gruffly, “cum for me Steve.”


	19. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:  
L is for Letters.  
Rated G.  
Fluffy goodness. Tank is mischievous and great. Old fashioned Steve.

They used to annoy Tony.

The only mail that was delivered straight to him was from youngsters who loved Iron Man. Then he started dating Steve, and at least once a week a letter from Steve would be somewhere hidden in that pile.

Each letter was encased in a thick custom stationery envelope that had a vintage feel and look to it. Steve would write the Sent and Receive information himself, always ever so careful to make it both beautiful and legible even though it was delivered by hand. From Steve’s hand to the pile of Tony’s fan mail.

He’d even put stamps on the things. “The postal service needs our support, Tony.” Sometimes they were silly or cute stamps that Tony imagined made Steve smile. Otherwise they were patriotic, or special edition. Tony was sure Steve collected stamps. That seemed like an old person thing to do.

The contents of the letters were always perfectly scribed in slanting, gorgeous cursive. Because of course Steve still wrote in cursive. The language was flowery, precise, well thought out. And so what if the first one had Tony sitting on the edge of his bed with tears in his eyes. How could anyone resist being spoken to, spoken about, like that? It was more romantic than any modern day gesture he’d ever received.

Okay, so yes. Tony started looking forward to the letters. No one did shit like that anymore. No one sat down and wrote someone else a letter, telling them about their thoughts and what was going on in their lives, how much they cherished you, why they loved you, things that reminded them of you.

Tony had been keeping them hidden in a shoe box in the closet right above his favorite Prada suits, until eventually he could no longer get the lid closed. He huffed in amusement and disbelief, shaking his head at the box. Futurist as he was, he would never have predicted he would have an overflowing shoebox of love letters from Captain America.

So he moved them into a plastic tote in his workshop. It seemed the best option. It kept them safe, and they weren’t somewhere anyone could just stumble across them. Imagining Clint getting his sticky hands on them was mortifying. And he definitely couldn’t throw them out. Talk about tabloids. If he ever had to get rid of them they’d have to be burnt. And that was not happening.

The biggest reason for their location though, was that it allowed him to go through them when he wanted to. For some reason Steve finding out that every once in a while Tony would go to that tote and go all waxing poetic over the letters was mortifying.

Meanwhile Steve didn’t think that Tony even kept them. Tony was a sentimental person despite all his assertions that he wasn’t, but Steve just couldn’t imagine Tony keeping a trove of letters. If anything he probably scanned them into a computer or something. Hard copies weren’t Tony’s thing.

Then again, neither were dogs, and Tony had gotten him one.

“I’m telling you, he doesn’t like it when I walk him.”

“No, you’re just not holding the leash how he likes it.”

“Oh shove it, Steve. He’s your boy through and through.” Tony bent down to unhook Tank’s leash and ruffle the shaggy hair on top of his head while Steve watched with a grin. As soon as he’s freed Tank dashed around the shop. It was a habit after his walkies. He had to do a good frolic around to express his joy. Tony had no idea how he could possibly still have energy.

“Yeah. But he still loves you.” Steve remarked, leaning back on the edge of a work table. At that moment Tank came up and threw his paws onto Tony’s shoulders, making them the same height, and went on mission Clean-Tony’s-Face.

“Uggggh.” Tony complained. It was a weak complaint seeing as he was simultaneously laughing. Tank loved the sound of laughter, and his tail went crazy as he nibbled on Tony’s earlobe. “Alright, you’re nasty.” Tony gently shoved Tank down who resumed bounding about the shop, nearly knocking into just about everything.

“I should probably work on the in shop zoomies. Guys like a bull in a china shop.” Steve winced.

Tony had a theory that Tank knew what they were saying, and acted premeditatedly at least 95% of the time. Which is why the CRASH that followed Steve’s sentence didn’t surprise him.

“Tank, dammit!” Tony reprimanded and marched over to the boxes and bins the giant of a hound had knocked over, Steve on his heels laughing, which of course made Tank even happier and more excitable.

Unable to not smile a bit as he sighed in disapproval he took in the damage. Thankfully, it hadn’t been anything fragile. It was just a mess. 

And then Tony saw what the mess was. All his letters from Steve were spilled across the floor. Tank had decided he liked one and was chewing it. A heat broke over Tony’s body.

It didn’t matter that Steve was the one who wrote them. Tony was the one who had stored them here to covet and read like a housewife waiting on her husband to return from war. Getting over his initial shock, he dropped to his knees and started gathering what he could towards himself like a goblin scooping up treasure, hiding it with his body.

A hand to the small of his back snapped him out of his frenzy. “Uh. Yeah. Just keeping these- for safe keeping. Can’t throw ‘em out, right? Could scan and burn them but that just seems wrong, doesn’t-”

“Tony.” Steve said, his voice soft and..besotted?

Brown eyes lifted from the floor and Tony cautiously peeked at Steve, and yup. He’s all heart eyes and gushiness, like he’s full of warm caramel. For a moment Tony thought that may be just as bad, but that soon passed and he barked out a short laugh. He’s rewarded with a grin from Steve that always made him feel like he’s falling in love again.

“I didn’t think you would have kept them. You didn’t even like them at first.”

“Yeah. Well.” Tony resumed putting them back where they belonged. “They grew on me. You win.”

Laughing, “it wasn’t a contest. But I’ll take it.” Steve was silent as he looked through a few. “You mind if I read some of them? They’re nice for me to look back on too.”

And if anyone argued Steve wasn’t the sweetest thing on Earth Tony would kill them.

“Knock yourself out. Any time. You wrote ‘em.” Tony pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek and then caught sight of Tank with shreds of paper around. “Except the ones your dog ate.”

“My dog? You’re the one- Tank no!” And Tony laughed as Steve lunged at Tank in a desperate attempt to save the precious letters.


	20. Mustache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES:  
M is for Mustache.  
Rated T.  
Salty Tony. They are both little shits. Fluff. Humor.

It was fuzzy, no. It was too bristly to be fuzzy. Whatever, it didn’t matter. Either way it resembled a dark blonde caterpillar who had made it’s home on Steve’s upper lip. Literally on it. His pretty pink cupid’s bow hid behind the curtain of hair and Tony wanted to knock the damn thing off Steve’s face.

And it wasn’t because it was facial hair. No no. It was because of the type of facial hair. Tony would love it if Steve grew a beard. But no, this was a straight up creepy Ron Jeremy mustache that did NOT belong on Steve Rogers’ face.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Steve across from him, he switched between glaring at the offending stache and his tablet. Steve probably noticed, but Tony didn’t care. Steve knewhow he felt about it.

But that didn’t stop Steve from doing what he wanted. Rarely anything ever did. What had sparked this particular desire was Henry Cavill rocking a mustache. Mind you, it was a mustache with a major five o’clock shadow that sucked the ickiness out of it. Steve had immediately gone all “I’ve never had one. I must live all life experiences. Commence objective grow porn whiskers.

It had been two weeks since the thing had grown in completely, and Steve still hadn’t gotten rid of it. Despite Tony’s requests/demands, and the media having a field day claiming that Tony had poisoned Captain America so deeply that he was going into the porn business, he wouldn’t do it. Between his patent Captain stubbornness, and the pleasure he got from torturing Tony, the later doubted he’d ever shave it off. No matter what Tony said, whether it was pleas or rational reasons, it didn’t matter.

“Come on, Tony. I thought you loved me no matter what.”

He could still see Steve’s shit eating grin. 

The quiet revelation set a finality in Tony’s head. If Steve wouldn’t do it, he would.

\------

It wasn’t until Steve had a properly long and physically exhausting day that Tony initiated mission Trim the Hedge. The genius knew a lot of things, and one of them was that unless Steve was properly put through what his body considered rigorous activity, he was a light sleeper. It’s unclear whether this was a factor of the serum, or his time fighting in WW2. Probably both.

He waited until Steve’s snoring evened out, and then padded to the bathroom where he’d hidden a shaving go-kit. After pulling it out of the towel closet he paused, ears raising to make sure Steve was still asleep. The man didn’t snore loudly, so it took him a moment to pick up on it. All systems go.

Implementing his stealth skills honed by his time as an Avenger he crept across the room, sticking to the shadows so as not to interrupt any light sources. Just in case. Steve was a freak.

When he reached Steve’s side of the bed he had to risk blocking out some light. He did so slowly, and then stayed absolutely still. Steve wiggled his nose but otherwise was unaffected. Perfect.

Employing the ninja precision he’d learned from Tasha, he silently laid the shaving kit out on the nightstand. Once everything was in it’s rightful place he grabbed the shaving cream and then stood there staring at Steve nervously.

A few minutes passed before he deemed Steve asleep enough, and himself ready enough. He dispensed a small dollop of shaving cream onto his hand and then carefully applied it across the source of his torture.

Steve shifted in his sleep and Tony went still and wide eyed. The super soldier promptly settled, but Tony still didn’t move until his own heartbeat slowed down.

The application of the shaving cream wasn’t the best, but it would have to. If Steve got razor burn, well it’d heal before morning.

Ever so carefully, Tony brought the razor to Steve’s face, heart now hammering more out of excitement. Finally his foe would be defeated!

He was halfway done when Steve woke up.

“What the hell Tony?!” Limbs flew and Tony flittered backwards, dropping the razor and putting his hands behind his back innocently.

“What? Nothing!”

“Nothing?” Steve gauked as he took in the look on Tony’s face, the razor on the floor, and the kit on the table. One hand came up to his face and touched his upper lip. At first Tony though Steve was pissed, but then he burst into laughter. The kind of true laughter that adults didn’t laugh often.

It was contagious. Tony immediately grinned, and then joined in with Steve’s wild guffawing.

“You actually tried to shave it in my sleep!”

“I know! I don’t know how I thought I’d get away with it!”

The two worked out all their silly cackling, and slowly wound down to heavy breaths, huffs and occasional chuckles, sitting side by side in bed and clutching their stomachs.

“Guess I’ll have to go finish shaving it off, huh?” Steve sighed dramatically as he knocked his shoulder into Tony’s.

“Yeah. Guess so. Too bad.” Tony feigned disappointment.

“Shuddup.” Steve pushed Tony so he fell sideways on the bed before (heading) to the bathroom. “Just be careful, you might wake up with no hair one day.”

Tony sat up in abject horror, “you’d never!”

Steve’s answer of laughter filtering from the bathroom was not reassuring.


End file.
